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THE  LIGHT  ABOVE 
THE   CROSS    ROADS 


Mrs.  Mildred  E.  Youngman, 

Kingston, 

Massachusetts. 


MARCrs    .FAXOVEK 


THE  LIGHT  ABOVE 
THE  CROSS  ROADS 


BY 
MRS.  VICTOR  RICKARD 

Author  of  "Young  Mr.  Gibbs,"  "Dregs" 


U'"'^^ 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1918 


Published  1918  in  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

Dictor 

"They  will  come  back — come  back  again,  as 
long  as  the  red  earth  rolls. 
He  never  \Tasted  a  leaf  or  a  tree.     Do  you 
think  He  would  squander  souls?'' 


THE  LIGHT  ABOVE 
THE   CROSS    ROADS 


The  Light  Above  the  Cross  Roads 


CHAPTER  I 

SIR  HENRY  JANOVER,  K.C.LE.,  Governor  of 
the  Province  of.Barapore.  sat  looking  down  his 
long  dining-table,  idly  crumbling  his  bread  with  his 
strong  fingers. 

The  scene  before  him  held  none  of  the  charm  of  nov- 
elty. The  great  table  with  its  masses  of  silver  and 
flowers,  the  shaded  lights,  the  semi-royal  livery  of  the 
numerous  servants,  the  chatter  of  the  guests  which 
stormed  and  rose  above  the  music  of  the  band,  were  all 
wearily  famiHar  to  him.  He  knew  that  the  formula 
represented  "  pleasure,"  and  "  pleasure  "  is  a  necessary 
part  of  the  life  of  a  high  official.  It  also  represented 
entertainment,  and  Sir  Henry  made  no  effort  to  sup- 
plement the  already  lavish  arrangements  made  for  his 
guests'  satisfaction,  by  any  personal  attempt  to  loin  in 
the  noise  of  the  many  voices.  There  was  no  weakness 
in  Sir  Henry  Janover,  his  strength  had  the  defiance  of 
a  challenge  and  his  pride  was  reserved  and  still. 

Iron  grey  hair  grew  thickly  on  his  well-shaped  head, 
and  his  eyes  were  startlingly  blue,  and  cold  as  glacier 
ice,  his  dark  blue  coat  with  its  velvet  collar  and  gold 
buttons  fitted  his  broad  shoulders  faultlessly,  and  his 
order  showed  finely,  increasing  the  air  of  distinctive- 
ness that  actively  claimed  his  right  to  be  intensely  him- 
self.    He  was  still  a  young  man,  young  for  the  position 

I 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

he  held,  and  young  in  his  intense  vitality,  which  re- 
tained the  driving  power  of  a  storm,  in  a  country 
where  vitality  lowers  perceptibly  with  every  added  year 
of  service. 

Just  then  he  was  not  troubling  himself  to  be  polite  to 
Mrs.  Jos.  Digby,  the  lady  on  his  right,  whose  Grecian 
profile  had,  it  was  said,  acted  upon  the  judgment  and 
hearts  of  twelve  of  his  fellow-countr}Tnen  at  a  critical 
juncture  of  her  life.  He  was  looking  down  the  strip 
of  lace  and  glass  and  silver,  and  considering,  with  slow, 
concentrated  scrutiny,  the  woman  who  sat  at  the 
farther  end,  officially  his  wife. 

Lady  Janover  was  still  beautiful,  and  art  and  care  as- 
sisted her  admirably  in  her  effect  of  permanent  success. 
The  fact  that  she  lived  upon  her  emotions  and  was  at 
the  mercy  of  her  own  vanity  was  obvious  to  the  hard 
eyes  that  watched  her;  that  young  Lord  Hartfield, 
lately  arrived  in  the  Station,  was  rapidly  approaching 
the  fatuous  stage  of  open  adoration  was  equally  easy 
to  discern. 

Sir  Henry  Janover's  mouth  twisted  slightly.  It  was 
the  usual  vulgar  business.  She  was  laughing  and  ly- 
ing, he  knew,  even  though  the  noise  of  the  band  and 
the  talk  of  the  forty  guests  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  hear  one  word.  He  had  not  lived  with  her  for  one 
month,  much  less  the  whole  of  their  married  life,  with- 
out having  learnt  to  weigh  her  character  to  an  ounce. 

A  loathing  of  the  whole  painted  show  swept  over  him 
suddenly,  and  he  thought  of  himself  as  he  was  when 
everything  was  young,  and  when  his  dream  had  not 
been  within  measurable  distance  of  being  realized. 
Now  he  was  a  ruler  in  the  Promised  Land,  and  the 
irony  of  the  strange  fatality  that  follows  upon  the  wish 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

fulfilled  wrought  within  him  as  it  has  wrought  in  the 
hearts  of  hundreds  of  men,  forcing  him  to  say  that  it  is 
better  never  to  get  beyond  Beth  Peor's  heights,  and  that 
the  luckiest  adventurer  is  the  man  who  dies  before  he 
enters,  and  is  buried  by  angels  in  blessed  anonymity. 

Sir  Henry  saw  himself  tied  by  a  thousand  chains  to 
the  very  greatness  of  his  position,  tied  to  a  wife  with 
whom  it  might  be  a  dreary  tragedy,  yet  precluded  by 
the  unwritten  law  of  his  order  from  taking  any  short 
cut  to  freedom  from  her  presence  in  his  house,  tied  to 
the  very  chair  he  sat  on,  and  obliged  to  entertain  stran- 
gers without  the  slightest  hope  of  finding  among  his 
guests  that  unexpected  angel  sent  to  encourage  the 
hearts  of  the  hospitable.  Still,  he  knew  himself  to  be 
successful,  and  there  was  some  essence  of  joy  in  that 
knowledge.  Had  he  stood  alone  he  might  even  have 
been  happy,  but  his  ambition  and  his  pride  would  not 
permit  him  to  stand  alone  and  push  the  woman  he  had 
married  entirely  out  of  his  life.  She  was  always 
there. 

She  lived  in  the  light  of  her  position,  glorying  openly 
in  its  power  and  using  it,  when  it  suited  her,  for  any 
petty  end.  It  sickened  him,  as  though  some  one  had 
taken  a  sword  stained  in  war  to  kill  a  black  beetle. 
She  used  him  as  a  telling  weapon  when  she  posed 
as  a  neglected  wife,  she  used  everything  she  touched 
in  the  same  way,  and  eternally  she  acted  her  part  to 
the  men  who  came  and  went.  What  she  gave  he 
could  hardly  assess.  She  seemed  to  have  some  vital 
inspiration  animating  her  to  continue  successfully,  and 
she  blossomed  with  each  victory  in  a  manner  that 
made  Henry  Janover  realize  that  his  wife  had  made 
a  life  study  of  the  art  she  had  practised.     Hartfield 

3 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

was  years  younger  than  Lady  Janover,  and  taking  it 
seriously ;  Willie  Baring,  on  her  other  side,  had  been 
through  it,  and  did  not  trouble  to  disguise  his  amuse- 
ment as  he  talked  with  slighting  familiarity  to  his 
hostess. 

Sir  Henry  Janover  fiddled  again  with  his  bread. 
iVVillie  Baring's  conversation  was  known  all  over  India, 
and  he  could  guess  that  he  was  growing  careless, 
but  he  remained  entirely  unmoved.  Once  upon  a  tima 
he  had  been  otherwise,  but  that  was  long  ago,  so  long 
ago  that  he  had  forgotten  when  he  began  not  to  mind, 
and  ceased  to  hate  her  for  w^hat  she  did  and  had  grown 
to  hate  her  for  what  she  was,  and  finally,  had  come 
to  regard  her  as  one  might  regard  some  nuisance  that 
could  not  be  abated  at  a  reasonable  cost.  One  power 
alone  Lady  Janover  exercised  over  her  husband  at  all 
times,  and  that  Avas  the  power  to  sicken  him,  and 
raise  up  a  latent  brutality  of  speech  in  him  that  he 
neither  tried  nor  desired  to  conquer.  She  had  chosen 
to  stay  in  the  East,  she  required  to  share  his  position, 
and,  such  being  the  case,  Henry  Janover  was  not  ex- 
actly the  man  to  make  her  lot  a  bed  of  roses. 

Half-way  down  the  table  he  could  see  Casson,  the 
Chief  Secretary,  glance  at  her,  his  studied  reserve 
betraying  nothing  of  the  thoughts  within.  Out  of 
all  the  men  and  women  gathered  together  under  his 
roof,  Henry  Janover  counted  only  Casson  as  his  friend ; 
but,  after  the  manner  of  men,  they  never  touched  upon 
the  private  lives  of  one  another,  though  Casson  knew 
that  his  Chief  was  not  the  man  that  popular  report 
painted  him.  Lady  Janover  had  not  spared  her  hus- 
band when  she  proved  her  own  right  to  a  certain 
liberty    of    conduct,    and    the    expression    **  numbing 

4 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

pain"  was  one  she  often  used;  and  as  Janover  had 
never  permitted  himself  the  smallest  indiscretion  that 
could  be  twisted  into  a  scandal,  the  ever  useful  fiction 
of  a  vague  and  veiled  w^oman  somewhere  on  the  border 
grew  and  prospered  exceedingly. 

"  How  well  Lydia  looks  tonight,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Digby,  w^ho  felt  that  if  Sir  Henry  stared  down  the 
table  any  longer  people  would  begin  to  think  she 
was  failing  badly,  and  she  had  a  reputation  to  con- 
sider. 

Janover  turned  his  eyes  tow^ards  her  and,  as  she 
expressed  it  afterwards,  made  her  feel  as  if  she  was 
nailed  to  the  w^all. 

"  Which  of  them  do  you  prefer?  "  he  said  slowly. 

"  And  how  you  must  admire  her,"  continued  Mrs. 
Digby. 

"  My  position  gives  me  exceptional  chances." 

"  Has  Lydia  told  you  our  Simla  scheme?  " 

Sir  Henry's  eyelids  flickered. 

"  I  know  about  the  Simla  scheme,"  he  said  almost 
gently,  his  voice  softening  into  dangerous  quiet. 

"  Oh,  that  is  splendid."  replied  Mrs.  Digby  with 
nervous  exaggeration  of  her  manner. 

Janover  moved  impatiently.  Lydia  was  still  laugh- 
ing at  the  last  witticism  of  Willie  Baring,  and  the 
guests  were  sitting  in  suspense.  In  little  things  such 
as  this  she  constantly  irritated  him. 

"Simla,"  he  said  again.  "Paradise,  is  it  not? 
Heaven  on  earth  and  a  ballroom  on  chains  thrown 
in.     Who  with  a  heart  could  close  the  doors  of  such 

a  Garden  of  Eden  to  two  such "     Mrs.  Digby  rose 

quickly,  and  smiHng  at  her  host  left  him  with  un- 
disguised  relief. 

5 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Lydia,"  she  murmured  in  the  ear 
of  Lady  Janover.  "  Oh,  my  poor  dear  Lyd,  I  should 
die  of  fright  if  I  was  left  alone  in  the  dark  with 
that  terrible  Henry  of  yours." 

Lady  Janover  bent  her  chestnut  head. 

"  Then,  Vi,  that  only  shows  what  a  fool  you  are. 
Henry  would  neither  eat  you  nor  want  to  eat  you." 

When  the  women  had  left  the  long  dining-room 
Sir  Henry  was  always  made  to  feel  conscious  of  his 
own  power  to  hold  others  aloof.  He  kept  men  not 
so  much  at  arm's  length  as  at  rapier's  length,  and 
it  was  Casson  who  came  and  sat  near  him,  a  very 
marked  division  gaping  between  them  and  the  others. 

Janover  laughed  to  himself  as  he  saw  Hartfield 
place  himself  at  the  farthest  point  possible  from  his 
host.  "  He's  an  honest  ass,"  he  thought  contemptu- 
ously, and  turning  towards  Casson  he  became  oblivious 
to  the  rest  of  the  company,  talking  in  a  slightly  low- 
ered voice. 

"  I've  made  up  my  mind,  Casson.  Marcus  goes 
home  with  Lady  Janover  next  month." 

"  It's  time  he  went,"  replied  Casson  emphatically. 
"  Marcus  is  eight,  and  a  boy  of  that  age  gets  out  of 
hand  in  this  country."  He  laughed  a  pleasant  easy 
laugh.  "  I  saw  him  pounding  Gul  Sher  today.  Go- 
ing for  him  with  his  whip  he  was,  and  when  I  inter- 
fered he  cursed  me  with  a  few  well-chosen  words  he 
had  learnt  from  a  Tommy  who  was  having  an  argu- 
ment with  a  friend,  so  he  told  me." 

Janover  crossed  one  leg  over  the  other  and  shaded 
his  eyes  with  his  hand  as  he  went  on  speaking. 

"  I've   sworn  to   one   thing,   and   that   is   that   my 

6 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

mistakes  and  the  mistakes  made  by  others  on  my 
behalf,  shall  not  be  his.  He  starts  as  well  as  I  can 
start  him,  and  as  well  as  I  can  start  him  doesn't  mean 
Eton  and  Oxford.  I'm  damned  if  it  does.  He's  got 
to  learn  to  live,  not  to  play;  he's  got  to  learn  that 
the  Empire  isn't  a  music  hall  in  Leicester  Square,  and 
that  a  man's  work  isn't  all  polo  and  shooting.  I've 
watched  the  stuff  we  turn  out,  and  I  wonder  how  it 
is  we  still  are  what  we  are,  with  the  training  we  have 
behind  us." 

"  You  know  my  ideas,"  Casson  spoke  very  earnestly. 
"  My  people  could  do  very  little  for  me,  but  what 
they  did  has  been  of  every  use.  If  I  hadn't  gone  to 
Germany " 

"  That  is  the  point,"  said  Janover  restlessly.  "  It's 
an  infernal  business,  Casson.  I'd  like  the  boy  to  get 
his  schooling  in  England,  but  if  I  want  him  to  be  fitted 
for  the  big  things,  how  can  I  send  him  to  a  place 
where  the  Masters  have  to  be  M.C.C.  cricketers  or 
International  footballers,  and  God  knows  what  else, 
and  which  he  will  leave,  unable  to  write  his  own  lan- 
guage correctly  and  totally  unable  to  speak  a  word 
of  any  other.  If  he  has  brains  enough  for  the 
Diplomatic,  he  must  begin  with  a  better  training  than 
he  could  get  in  England."  He  paused  for  a  moment 
and  said  very  deliberately,  "  For  many  reasons  that 
all  dovetail  one  into  another  I  am  determined  to  send 
him  to  Germany." 

"  He  is  rather  young  for  school."  Casson  was 
thinking  as  he  spoke.  "  Will  Lady  Janover  stay  at 
home  with  him  for  a  year  or  two  ?  " 

"If    she    did "     Janover    pulled    himself    up 

abruptly.     "  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Marcus  would 

7 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

be  better  in  some  ways  in  a  simple  family,  where  he 
would  learn  a  very^  different  life  from  the  life  that 
induces  habits  of  thrashing  orderlies  and  using  words 
he  picks  up  on  the  roads.  Yes,  Casson,  I  am  clear  on 
that  point."  He  rose  as  he  spoke  and  the  conversation 
was  ended. 

It  was  much  later  in  the  evening  that  Janover  stood 
to  say  good-night  to  his  guests,  and  watched  Hart- 
field's  lingering  parting  with  his  wife. 

"  Don't  go  yet,  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  he  said, 
approaching  Lady  Janover  as  the  vast  room  emptied 
and  she  stood  alone  at  the  far  end  of  the  polished  floor. 
She  was  playing  with  a  long  pearl  chain,  and  she 
replied  with  a  stifled  yawn  that  she  wished  he  could 
wait  until  any  time  that  was  not  now. 

"  It  is  always  the  same,  Henry,  You  usually  begin 
to  insist  about  something  just  when  I  don't  feel  like 
it." 

Janover  walked  towards  the  open  window  and 
looked  out  at  the  tropic  night ;  below  him  the  palm 
trees  whispered  in  the  first  light  breath  of  the  coming 
dawn,  and  the  world  looked  fair  and  full  of  peace. 
When  he  turned  back  to  the  room,  Lydia  was  sitting 
in  a  low  chair  lighting  a  cigarette. 

"  I  am  waiting,  you  may  observe,"  she  remarked 
with  studied  indifference.     "  What  have  I  done  now?  " 

Janover  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
looked  down  at  her. 

"  I  told  you  that  I  have  arranged  for  you  to  take 
Marcus  home  next  month." 

"  And  I  don't  intend  to  go."  Lady  Janover's  eyes 
blazed,  and  the  hand  that  held  the  lighted  cigarette 
trembled. 

8 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  You  propose  to  go  to  Simla  with  Mrs.  Digby." 

"  Well,  if  I  do,  I  don't  see  that  you  can  object." 

Janover  leaned  his  arm  on  a  high  carved  cabinet. 

"  I  have  ceased  to  object  or  care  what  you  do,"  he 
replied,  without  a  trace  of  annoyance  in  his  voice. 
'*  But  I  have  other  considerations,  Lydia,  consider- 
ations that  concern  Marcus ;  and  where  he  is  concerned, 
anything  you  may  wish  or  desire  does  not  count. 
You  fully  understand  ?  " 

"  I  ought  to."  Her  voice  was  mutinous.  '*  The 
child  will  be  perfectly  all  right  up  in  Simla,  as  I  have 
already  told  you,  and  I  have  no  intention  whatever  of 
leaving  India  just  at  present." 

*'  You  will  take  him  to  England  next  month." 
Janover's  voice  was  still  level  and  calm.  "  And  after 
that  he  goes,  as  I  intend,  to  Germany,  when  your 
supervision  will  be  at  an  end,  and  you  can  go  to  — 
Simla." 

Lady  Janover  dropped  her  cigarette  on  the  floor  and 
placed  a  small  satin-shod  foot  upon  it. 

"  Will  you  admit  that  /  am  to  have  any  say  in  the 
bringing  up  of  my  own  son?  " 

"  Your  '  say,'  as  you  put  it,  has  been  his  dominating 
factor  for  eight  years."  A  touch  of  heat  crept  into 
his  eyes  and  voice.  "  To  what  end?  Where  has  his 
love  gone?  You  should  know  something  upon  that 
subject,  but  it  is  not  you  he  loves;  the  only  person  he 
cares  about  is  Janki  the  Ayah.  Where  is  his  alle- 
giance? Do  you  command  it?  I  think  not;  he  has 
given  that  to  the  Havildar  who  rides  w4th  him. 
Whom  does  he  obey?  No  one  and  nothing  but  his 
own  child  passions.  Good  God!  You  ask  me  if  you 
are  to  have  no  say  in  the  moulding  of  your  child's  life 

9 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  I  answer  you  Never  —  Never  if  I  can  prevent  it ; 
and  I  can  prevent  it." 

Lady  Janover  gave  a  shrill,  ugly  laugh. 

"  How  very  melodramatic,  Henry.  If  the  child 
does  like  the  people  who  are  with  him,  so  much  the 
better.  As  for  his  little  tantrums,  school  will  change 
all  that.  Why  on  earth  all  our  lives  should  be  dis- 
located for  a  child  like  Marcus  I  entirely  fail  to  under- 
stand." 

Janover  stared  sombrely  at  her. 

"  You  would  fail,"  he  said  slowly;  **  nevertheless  he 
is  going  where  I  intend  he  shall  go." 

"  I  hate  Germans."  Lady  Janover  shifted  her  point 
of  attack.  "  It  will  absolutely  ruin  him.  What  sort 
of  friends  will  he  make,  I  ask  you?  Germans.  What 
sort  of  ideas  will  he  get?  German  ideas.  He  will 
come  back  unbearable  and  nothing  on  earth  will  ever 
make  him  fit  to  look  at.  Germany  is  a  dreadful 
country  that  is  full  of  philosophers  and  waiters,  and 
if  you  had  ever  seen  a  German  officer  out  of  uniform 
—  really,  Henry,  when  you  talk  of  considering  the  best 
interests  for  Marcus,  all  this  is  pure  nonsense.  Of 
course  he  goes  to  Eton." 

Janover  leaned  forward  and  his  eyes  grew  threat- 
ening. 

"You  must  go  to  Simla,  must  you,  Lydia?  You 
must  take  Hartfield  there  with  you  and  drag  the  poor 
puppet  about  after  you.  ^leantime  Marcus  progresses 
along  his  own  path,  until  no  school  on  earth  would 
keep  him  when  he  is  sent  there,  and  no  discipline  exists 
that  will  break  him  of  the  curse  of  his  early  bringing 
up  here." 

lO 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Lady  Janover  drew  back  in  her  chair  and  her  hands 
gripped  the  arms.  When  Henry  grew  Hke  this  she 
knew  tliere  was  no  appeal. 

"  I  have  many  things  to  think  of,"  he  continued 
in  the  same  tense  voice :  "  Marcus  needs  special 
chances  and  special  training.  How  will  it  be  if,  deep, 
somewhere  in  him,  there  is  a  taint  that  may  develop?  " 
He  had  her  at  his  mercy  now,  and  he  spoke  with 
cruel  lightness.  "  Shall  we  call  you  a  diplomatist, 
Lydia?  If  he  inherits  your  facility  he  may  so  easily 
overdo  the  part.  It  isn't  so  safe  for  a  man,  accord- 
ing to  our  present  code  of  ideas,  as  it  is  for  a  woman." 

"  I  will  not  go.''  She  had  her  head  down  and  her 
face  looked  old  and  set. 

He  paced  the  room  for  a  few  moments  and  then 
stood  before  her.  "If  I  could  arrange  to  let  you 
stay  and  send  the  boy  home,  without  public  scandal, 
I  would  do  so.  I  care  so  little  that  I  would  do  so. 
But  since  this  is  not  possible,  and  I  have  to  consider  my 
own  prestige  in  so  far  as  I  personally  stand  for  a  great 
deal  more  than  a  mere  individual,  I  ask  you  to  submit 
to  the  agonies  of  separation  for  the  hot  weather.  Six 
months  of  sacrifice  —  surely,  Lydia,  your  maternal 
heart  accepts  the  justice  of  the  judgment." 

"  I  hate  you,"  she  said  in  a  suppressed  voice.  "  You 
will  live  to  regret  this,  Henry.  You  will  live  to  be 
sorry  that  you  did  this,  and  I  hope  you  will.  I  hope 
yon  will  suffer  for  it." 

Janover  yawned  idly. 

"  The  one  certainty  in  life  is  that  one  will  regret 
everything  sooner  or  later.     Good-night." 

She  was  crying  now,  her  head  on  her  arms.     But 

II 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

her  tears  always  came  at  the  right  moment,  and,  his 
hands  still  deep  in  his  pockets,  he  strolled  out  of  the 
room. 

Upstairs  in  the  nursery,  in  a  dim  light,  the  Ayah 
bent  over  a  small  bed,  shrouded  by  a  mosquito  cur- 
tain, and  as  she  bent  she  sang  in  nasal  monotone : 

Good  Baba  sogia,  Mucken  roti  hogia. 
Good  Baba  nini,  Mucken  roti  chinie. 

It  was  the  slumber  song  of  the  princeling  whom  she 
adored,  and  in  his  sleep  he  turned  and  called  her 
by  a  word  which  he  had  added  to  his  vocabulary 
during  the  day,  learnt  from  Willie  Baring;  but  the 
Ayah  only  kissed  his  feet  and  droned  her  song  in  his 
ears. 

Down  in  the  big  guest-room  his  father  and  mother, 
whom  he  called  "  They,"  were  fighting  about  him,  but 
what  did  that  matter?  Ayah  and  Gul  Sher  loved  him 
and  he  beat  them,  and  life  w^as  full  of  entertainment; 
so  after  a  long  day  of  life  and  delight  Marcus  slept  like 
the  weary  little  animal  he  was. 


12 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  spite  of  tears,  in  spite  of  further  protestations, 
Lady  Janover,  accompanied  by  Marcus  and  his 
Ayah,  made  the  journey  home  at  the  appointed  time, 
and  Sir  Henry  Janover  came  to  see  the  last  of  them  as 
they  embarked  on  the  big  liner  lying  in  Bombay  har- 
bour. His  eyes  softened  as  he  looked  down  at  the 
boy.  They  were  very  much  alike,  except  that  Marcus 
had  inherited  his  mother's  chestnut  hair ;  but  the  eyes 
were  the  same,  except  for  what  life  had  put  into  those 
of  Sir  Henry,  and  the  defiant  lift  of  the  chin  was 
there,  and  in  a  thousand  indescribable  ways  little 
Marcus  proclaimed  the  fact  that  here  again  was  Henry 
Janover  ready  to  fight  his  way  through  in  his  own 
generation. 

Sir  Henry  recognized  the  likeness.  This  was  his 
anchor,  his  chief  tie  to  life,  and  the  long  task  of 
training  and  fitting  the  delicate  instrument  for  high 
uses  was  definitely  to  be  given  over  into  unknown 
hands.  The  life  of  the  boy  was  everything  to  him,  and 
to  let  the  boy  have  his  chance  he  must  divide  him 
from  his  mother  by  a  huge  gap  of  years.  If  she 
loved  him  she  would  spoil  and  warp  him,  teach  him 
her  standpoint,  lower  his  ideals,  urge  him  to  follow 
the  ways  of  the  men  his  father  most  despised.  If 
she  hated  the  child,  as  at  times  he  believed  she  did,  in 
some  other  way  she  would  cast  her  shadow  to  blight 
and  destroy.  His  own  life  was  bound  in  with  the 
life  of  the  East,  and  Sir  Henry  Janover  was  well 

13 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

aware  that  even  with  his  fine  constitution  he  too, 
like  so  many  others,  might  find  the  sudden  end  come 
upon  him  without  warning.  At  best,  he  could  only- 
see  the  boy  now  and  then,  for  the  possibilities  of 
home  leave  were  rare  at  his  time,  and  the  haunt- 
ing thought  that  Lydia  would  tangle  the  threads  of 
the  one  destiny  he  cherished  made  him  resolve  def- 
initely to  put  Marcus  beyond  her  power.  Again  and 
again  he  looked  earnestly  at  the  boy,  his  very  soul 
disturbed  in  the  moment  of  parting,  and  the  pathos  of 
the  smallness  and  youth  of  the  little  Marcus  hurt  him 
like  a  wound. 

When  they  were  gone  and  his  wife  had  turned 
an  indifferent  shoulder  towards  him  in  farewell,  Sir 
Henry  watched  the  ship  steam  out  of  the  harbour 
with  a  strange  mixture  of  feelings.  So  much  was 
at  stake  in  the  future,  so  much  at  the  mercy  of  chance, 
so  much  must  happen  in  the  ultimate  moulding  of  the 
whole  nature  of  the  boy,  before  they  met  again  and 
met,  of  necessity,  as  strangers.  He  wondered  if  he 
would  be  able  to  help  him,  or  if  his  own  temperament 
would  chill  and  repress  his  son,  when  they  met  later 
and  he  had  to  stand  the  criticism  that  is  inevitable 
between  one  generation  and  the  next. 

The  sun  went  down  behind  the  sea,  the  sudden 
darkness  of  the  Tropics  folded  in  rapidly,  and  as 
Sir  Henry  walked  slowly  back  towards  his  hotel,  he 
still  thought  of  the  animated  child-face,  the  defiant 
eyes,  and  the  suggestion  of  something  brave  in  the 
upright  little  figure  waving  down  to  him  from  the 
towering  deck.  Life  that  engulfs  so  many  beginnings 
and  that  thwarts  so  many,  and  that  throws  so  many 
aside  —  what  was  it  going  to  do  with  Marcus  Janover  ? 

14 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Marcus  had  gone  over  the  traveller's  horizon,  and  his 
new  life  lay  mapped  out  for  him  by  the  hand  of  his 
father. 

As  for  Lady  Janover,  Sir  Henry  did  not  think  of 
her  at  all ;  but,  as  she  was  a  bad  sailor  and  already 
sea-sick,  she  thought  of  him  and  added  yet  another 
item  to  the  list  of  his  iniquities. 

The  burden  of  Lady  Janover 's  lamentations  grew 
with  each  stage  of  the  journey,  and  reached  its  crash- 
ing climax  as  she  arrived  in  Hanover  one  sultry  sum- 
mer evening.  She  saw  no  beauty  in  the  domes  and 
towers,  in  the  flower-bordered  streets,  in  the  clean  open 
vistas  that  were  bathed  in  the  strong  bright  sunset; 
her  heart  was  in  Simla,  and  without  a  heart  it  is 
not  easy  to  enjoy  anything,  at  least  so  long  as  that 
troublesome  and  unruly  member  drags  the  thoughts 
across  the  distance  of  half  the  world. 

For  a  brief  space  Lydia  had  enjoyed  herself  in 
Paris;  but  Marcus  proved  himself  an  encumbrance 
there  as  elsewhere,  so  she  hurried  on  towards  his 
destination  where  she  could  shake  free  and  leave 
him. 

"  It  is  a  hateful  country,"  she  said  to  Marcus,  who 
gazed  through  the  carriage  window  as  they  drove  to- 
wards Adelaidestrasse  6,  the  house  of  the  worthy  Herr 
Pastor  Gail  and  his  wife.  "  These  flowers  are  like 
bits  of  stodgy  Berlin  wool-work,  after  the  East;  and 
the  women  —  I  suppose  your  father  intends  you  to  be 
taught  to  admire  the  fat  stupid  Gretchen  type," 

"What  is  a  Gretchen?"  asked   Marcus. 

"  A  suet  pudding,"  replied  Lady  Janover  with  em- 
phasis. "  However,  it  has  nothing  to  say  to  me. 
Whatever   sins   I   have   committed   I   haven't  had  a 

15 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

hand  in  this  particular  crime;  it  is  your  father's  own 
pattern  and  design,  and  it  is  to  be  *  made  in  Ger- 
many,' " 

Marcus  had  very  little  recollection  of  what  hap- 
pened afterwards.  He  knew  that  he  arrived  and  that 
the  house  was  strange,  and  that  there  appeared  to  be 
a  great  deal  of  very  much  polished  furniture  inside 
and  tremendously  solid  curtains,  and  that  there  were 
quite  interesting  pictures  on  the  tiles  of  the  high  stove. 
He  had  only  a  vague  impression  that  his  mother  and 
her  scent  and  jewels  and  silk  dress  vanished  at  some 
unknown  moment,  and  that  a  very  kind  woman  told 
him  not  to  cry,  and  appeared  astonished  when  he  asked 
why  she  thought  he  was  going  to  cry. 

There  were  first  impressions  of  his  little  room  up- 
stairs —  of  its  almost  intolerable  tidiness,  and  of  the 
pervading  smell  of  camphor  and  beeswax  that  was 
everywhere ;  and  the  red  cross-stitch  borders  along  the 
curtains,  and  the  mats  and  wool-work  that  sank  and 
blended  into  other  memories  all  fragmentary  and  fluid, 
and  yet  in  a  sense  permanent. 

Herr  Pastor  Gail,  a  large  pallid  man  with  a  bald 
head  and  gold-rimmed  glasses,  towered  out  among 
the  first  dim  figures  that  reflected  themselves  on  the 
memory  mirror  of  Marcus  Janover.  The  Herr  Pastor 
spoke  English  fluently  and  well,  and  was  to  continue 
his  young  pupil's  education  in  his  own  tongue  conver- 
sationally imtil  such  time  as  a  further  effort  along 
the  weary  road  of  learning  was  considered  advisable. 
It  was  owing,  in  fact,  to  the  Herr  Pastor's  proficiency 
in  the  English  language  that  he  formed  an  extremely 
bad  impression  of  the  early  bringing  up  of  Lady  Jan- 
over's  son,  and  his  manner,  which  had  been  polite  to 

i6 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  verge  of  servility  to  the  Gnadigc  Frau,  altered  after 
her  departure. 

Marcus  loathed  him  with  the  violent  passionate 
hatred  of  the  very  young,  from  the  moment  when 
the  fat  flabby  hand  patted  his  head  and  made  him 
desire  to  bite  it.  Set  against  his  intemperate  dislike 
of  the  Herr  Pastor  was  another  feeling,  however, 
equally  strong,  which  also  arose  at  the  first  touch  of 
kindly  hands  and  a  voice  saying  in  very  uncertain 
English  that  he  must  not  cry.  Frau  Pastor  Gail,  with 
her  sweet  placid  face  and  calm  eyes,  was  a  type  un- 
known to  Marcus;  he  looked  at  her  long  and  search- 
ingly,  and  told  her  in  Hindustani  that  he  thought 
she  was  good  and  that  he  liked  her,  and  though  she 
laughed  and  shook  her  smooth  head  and  said  things 
entirely  incomprehensible,  he  felt  she  was  soothing  and 
soft,  and  in  some  unknown  fashion  like  his  dear  Janki 
whom  he  had  lost. 

There  was  very  little  else  that  remained  clearly 
defined  in  the  first  memory  of  his  coming,  except  that 
the  Pastor,  whom  Frau  Gail  spoke  of  as  "  dcr  liehe 
Papa,"  had  made  horrible  noises  of  anger  when  she 
cuddled  the  little  alien  in  her  arms,  and  that  she  had 
removed  him  to  his  own  small  room  on  high,  under  the 
tiles. 

With  all  the  wonderful  philosophy  of  childhood, 
Marcus  realized  and  accepted  the  fact  that  Adelaide- 
strasse  6  was  his  home,  and  that  life  there  was  his 
life,  and  so  he  grew  insensibly  to  conform  to  the 
standards  required  of  him,  outwardly  in  the  case  of 
the  Herr  Pastor,  and  inwardly  in  the  case  of  Frau 
Gail.  It  was  better  not  to  defy  the  Herr  Pastor, 
since  he  was  all  powerful,  but  it  remained  easy  to  hate 

17 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

him,  and  Marcus  made  no  secret  of  his  true  feelings 
when  he  thought  about  the  question  in  flashes  of  an- 
tagonism. The  Herr  Pastor  regarded  little  boys 
merely  as  an  irritating  and  troublesome  source  of 
income;  he  taught  them  because  it  paid  him  to  teach 
them,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  study  them  as 
individuals.  Marcus  attended  his  classes,  and  had 
the  greater  privilege  added  of  being  enfolded  in  the 
membership  of  the  Pastor's  o\yn  family  circle;  so  it 
is  possible  that  he  was  more  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
in  Marcus  there  dwelt  a  tense  and  almost  crude  re- 
ality, free,  natural,  and  spontaneous,  that  acted  upon 
his  teacher,  and  did  not  in  any  way  add  to  his  liking 
for  his  pupil. 

The  hours  spent  in  the  class-room  in  the  company 
of  some  twenty  other  boys,  a  few  of  whom  were 
English  like  himself,  were  hours  of  intense  boredom 
to  Marcus.  He  was  hopelessly  behind  his  compan- 
ions, and  during  the  whole  of  the  first  year  he  mutin- 
ously refused  to  make  the  smallest  effort  to  learn. 
The  horrible  disadvantage  of  his  own  ignorance  beset 
him,  and  the  simple  English  lessons  in  which  the  other 
boys  were  able  to  excel,  made  it  almost  essential  to 
his  own  self-respect  to  decline  w^ith  mulish  persistency 
to  learn  anything  except  colloquial  German.  It  ap- 
peared to  Marcus  that  elementar\'  effort  was  shame- 
ful for  one  who  had  ridden  the  Havildar's  charger, 
and  beaten  his  own  servants;  and  the  only  sweetness 
that  could  be  extracted  from  the  situation  sprang  out 
of  the  scorn  he  felt  and  uttered  against  the  plodding 
fellow-students,  who  replied  after  their  kind. 

"  It  is  better  that  we  learn  English,"  said  Schmidt, 
a  pale  spectacled  boy  of  twelve,  "  since,  later,  England 

i8 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

will  be  a  German  colony.  Otherwise  English  is  a 
monkey  language.     So,  often,  says  my  father." 

"  Then  your  father  is  a  liar.''  Marcus  was  engaged 
in  finding  the  product  by  multiplying  the  multiplicand 
by  the  multiplier,  and  welcomed  the  diversion  joyously. 
Opportunity  favoured  debate,  as  the  Herr  Pastor  was 
absent  during  the  hour  sacred  to  his  Gabelfriihstiick. 
Schmidt  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  light  hair  and  re- 
torted vehemently.  He  stated  that  the  English  were 
proverbially  untruthful,  that  they  were  devoid  of  in- 
tellect, that  they  were  greedy  and  dishonest,  that  their 
soldiers  were  hired  since  the  race  was  a  race  of  cow- 
ards, and  that  Marcus  himself  represented  ail  their 
vices  embodied  in  his  own  person. 

"Nun,  vat  haf  you  to  say?  "  he  finished. 

Marcus  laid  down  his  pen  and  stripped  oflf  his  coat. 

"  Just  this,"  he  replied;  "  come  out  from  your  seat, 
Schmidt,  and  I'll  tell  you." 

Noise  arose  around  them,  the  clamour  of  the  de- 
lighted school,  and  somehow,  inside  the  ring,  Marcus 
fought  with  his  adversary.  He  knew  he  had  hit 
Schmidt  on  the  pale  prominent  nose,  and  he  knew 
that  Schmidt  had  got  him  on  the  lip,  for  he  tasted 
blood;  and  he  also  knew  that  Schmidt  was  consid- 
erably stronger  than  he  was,  but  he  had  cared  nothing 
for  that. 

"  Gott  in  Himmel!"  said  a  voice  of  thunder  from 
the  door,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  fracas  the  Herr 
Pastor  made  a  truly  dramatic  entrance. 

The  cheering  crowd  melted  back  into  its  place,  and 
Schmidt,  holding  a  handkerchief  to  his  nose,  pointed 
speechlessly  at  Marcus ;  over  and  above  all  else  the 
Herr  Pastor  towered  in  his  wrath. 

19 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  He  called  my  father  a  liar,  he  also  used  words 
against  the  Fatherland,  that  is  why,  Herr  Pastor,  there 
is  this  noise  in  the  Arbeitsimmer,"  explained  Schmidt 
in  a  thick  voice.  "  Mark  Janover  is  a  savage  and 
wicked  boy,  he  is  certainly  dangerous." 

"  He  said  the  English  were  cowards,"  Marcus  broke 
in,  pulling  his  coat  over  his  bruised  arm.  "  But  we 
had  a  good  fight." 

Then  it  was  that  the  Pastor  arose  in  his  anger, 
and  from  the  raised  dais  behind  his  desk  he  preached 
nominally  at  both  the  culprits,  but  actually  at  Marcus 
Janover.  He  informed  them  that,  as  a  Pastor,  he 
knew  the  mind  of  Herr  Gott,  and  that  the  Herr  Gott, 
who  it  appeared  was  very  like  the  Pastor  in  many  of 
his  ideas,  would  punish  the  wicked  and  disobedient 
child  who  had  been  the  cause  of  this  passion-storm. 
That  child  was  marked  out  for  a  bad  end,  and,  finally, 
for  the  red  fires  of  Hell.  That  child  would  be  a  sor- 
row to  his  mother  and  a  cause  of  shame  to  his  father. 
The  Herr  Gott  hated  all  such  evil  little  boys,  and  the 
Herr  Gott  had  a  very  unpleasant  and  marked  way  of 
evincing  likes  and  dislikes.  Conduct  of  this  kind  was 
unverschdmt  and  ohschenlich,  and,  in  Germany,  such 
acts  were  not  applauded  as  was  the  case  in  other  coun- 
tries, and  as  a  punishment  Karl  Schmidt  was  divinely 
commanded  to  learn  a  page  of  the  works  of  the  great 
and  good  Schiller,  and  Marcus  Janover,  also  by  divine 
guidance,  was  to  receive  a  severe  caning.  Having 
thus  meted  out  the  justice  dictated  to  him  by  the  Higher 
Powers,  the  Herr  Pastor  proceeded  to  execution.  It 
Avas  not  the  last  time  that  the  Tribal  God  of  the  Pastor 
showed  a  distinct  national  list  in  dealing  with  Marcus, 

20 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  canings  were  frequent  although  he  began  to  work 
steadily  and  well. 

Yet  if  matters  stood  at  a  disadvantage  towards  the 
boy  in  the  bleak,  draughty  Arhcitzimmcr,  it  was  quite 
otherwise  under  the  Pastor's  own  roof.  Adelaide- 
strasse  6  was,  in  the  absence  of  the  Pastor,  whose 
duties  took  him  away  for  the  greater  part  of  the  day- 
light hours,  a  kingdom  where  Marcus  reigned  royally. 
Frau  Gail,  from  the  first  moment  that  she  had  held 
the  little  boy  in  her  arms,  adored  him  with  a  deep  and 
intense  love  which  grew  with  the  passing  of  the  years. 
She  bound  up  his  bruises  with  tears,  and  when  they 
were  the  result  of  differences  of  opinion  with  Schmidt 
or  other  boys,  poured  forth  copious  sympathy  and 
much  wrath  mingled  together.  When  it  had  to  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  Herr  Pastor's  Gott  was  responsible, 
Frau  Gail's  eyes  alone  expressed  her  feelings,  and  she 
resorted  to  the  consolations  of  Apfelkrapfen  and  Kom- 
pot.  Whatever  the  lieher  Papa  did  w^as  all  right,  and 
Grau  Gail  was  essentially  loyal ;  nevertheless  she  adored 
her  adopted  son,  and  he  responded  to  her  unstinted 
affection  with  all  the  forces  of  his  gay,  free  heart. 

When  the  Pastor  went  away  for  a  week  to  lecture 
at  Bonn,  which  he  did  once  in  each  quarter,  there 
was  joy  in  Adelaidestrasse  6,  and  Marcus  sat  up  late 
in  the  dining-room  while  Frau  Gail  knitted  and  told 
him  stories.  The  old  difficulty  of  making  him  under- 
stand had  vanished  with  his  quick  proficiency  in  her 
tongue,  and  it  seemed  at  times  to  her  that  the  little 
Otto  who  had  died  was  really  back  with  her,  and  that 
he  sat  with  his  head  against  her  shoulder  and  filled  the 
aching  gap  in  her  heart. 

21 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Thou  wilt  be  a  great  man,  mein  Mark,  and  wilt 
do  great  things.  I  shall  be  proud  of  thee,  as  also  thy 
mother  will  be  proud.'' 

"  I  do  not  remember  my  mother.  You  are  my 
mother." 

"  Thy  mother  is  a  very  fine  and  great  lady.  Later 
thou  wilt  return  to  her;  but  thou  wilt  not  forget  thy 
German  mother  ?  " 

The  boy  said  with  sincerity  that  he  would  never 
forget. 

"  Yet  I  wish  thou  wert  a  German,"  she  went  on 
sadly,  smoothing  his  chestnut  hair  with  a  soft  hand. 
"  Then  always  thou  wouldst  have  thy  home  in  my 
country.  Still  thou  must  love  thy  England,  for  all 
brave  men  love  best  their  own  land ;  though  the  Hen- 
Pastor,  who  has  been  in  England,  says  that  it  is  a  dark 
and  dreary  place,  not  like  our  Deutschland." 

Marcus  shook  his  head.  The  awful  truth  was  that 
he  did  not  know.  He  fought  his  school  battles  for 
the  name  of  England,  and  he  was  immensely  proud 
of  his  nationality,  but  he  knew  as  little  of  the  actual 
country  as  Frau  Gail  herself. 

"  I  am  English,"  he  said,  sitting  up  straight  in  his 
low  chair,  "  even  if  I  have  never  been  there;  also  I  am 
Irish." 

Frau  Gail  watched  him  attentively. 

"  Es  ist  Jammerschade''  she  said  under  her  breath. 
*'  And  yet,  mein  Mark,  I  would  change  nothing  in  thee. 
No  German  boy  is  thy  equal.  Zo,  Kind,  a  mother's 
eyes  see  far,  and  often  as  I  sit  and  knit  thy  socks,  I 
think  that  thy  feet  will  travel  up  and  up  and  up,  even 
up  to  a  far  height,  for  the  Herr  Pastor  hath  of  late 
said  often  that  thou  hast  done  well  in  thy  lessons." 

22 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Her  knitting  needles  clicked  rhythmically.  "  And 
where  will  these  feet  take  thee,  Mark  ?  Ach !  I  have 
many  dreams,  sitting  by  the  stove.  Ever  the  woman 
sits  thus  as  I  do,  and  looks  into  the  future  or  the  past. 
Before  I  had  thee  to  love,  I  looked  backwards,  but 
since  that  day  that  thou  camest  in  the  carriage  sitting 
beside  the  Gnddige  Frau,  thy  mother,  it  is  of  the  years 
to  come  that  I  dream.  Thy  legs  grow  long,  Mark  " 
—  she  measured  the  sock  with  a  practised  eye  — "  it 
is  with  pleasure  that  I  add  the  inch  to  the  inch,  and  yet 
each  inch  brings  thee  nearer  the  day  when  thou  wilt 
go  to  the  big  school  and  there  will  be  no  one  to  tell 
stories  to  in  the  twilight;  neither,  when  thou  comest 
back,  wilt  thou  care  to  listen  to  the  stories  of  the  old 
mother." 

They  were  very  happy,  peaceful  evenings,  those 
long  evenings  with  Frau  Gail,  and  in  retrospect  they 
seemed  to  cover  a  huge  vista  of  time.  The  whole 
of  five  years  was  included  in  the  one  volume  of  this 
period  of  Marcus  Janover's  life.  He  did  not  know 
that  it  was  monotonous  because  outbursts  with 
Schmidt,  whom  he  learnt  to  like,  and  an  awakening 
interest  in  his  work,  made  the  time  pass.  His  loves 
were  more  to  him  than  his  hates,  a  characteristic 
that  life  never  altered  very  extensively,  and  his  first 
red  anger  against  the  Herr  Pastor  changed  into  a 
half -amused  tolerance.  He  mimicked  him,  as  he 
mimicked  every  one,  even  his  beloved  Frau  Gail, 
and  he  no  longer  found  it  necessary  to  fight  English 
wars  either  within  or  outside  the  Arheitzimmer ; 
Ireland  was  justified  of  her  son,  and  with  his  cheery 
life  and  his  stormy  chivalry  he  conquered  the  little 
school  world. 

23 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Only  the  Herr  Pastor  still  remained  staunch  to 
his  original  opinion  of  his  pupil.  The  more  fully  he 
became  aware  that  within  the  brain  of  Marcus  there 
existed  a  power,  greater,  more  subtle  and  infinitely 
more  acute  than  that  of  the  other  boys  of  his  age, 
the  more  he  believed  that  Marcus  would  use  that 
power  for  a  bad  purpose.  He  constantly  found  him- 
self obliged  to  curb  and  curtail  his  own  teaching  in 
the  fear  that  with  tigerish  agility  the  boy  would 
spring  forth  upon  his  reasoning  and  cause  him  to 
pause  and  cough  before  he  could  continue,  and  crush 
the  questioner.  He  had,  in  his  cold  way,  studied 
the  brain  capacity  of  the  average  boy  of  from  twelve 
to  fourteen,  and  he  labelled  and  docketed  Marcus  as 
"  precocious."  There  was,  he  admitted  with  great 
reluctance,  some  strong,  dominating  inward  power 
that  gave  the  boy  a  quality  almost  akin  to  an  extra 
sense.  He  could  achieve  that  rare  effect,  assimilate 
without  growing  like.  His  hands  might  be  dyed  by 
the  colours  he  worked  in,  but,  within,  the  soul  of 
Marcus  Janover  was  clean  as  a  sword.  He  could 
and  did  unconsciously  see  everything,  and  behind  the 
detail,  again,  as  yet  unconsciously,  he  saw  the  soul 
of  things  and  men.  He  began  by  using  force,  since 
force  was  the  only  argument  he  knew  of,  and  he  had 
used  it  in  the  dreamy  far-off  days  in  India;  but  be- 
fore he  left  Adelaidestrasse  6  to  meet  his  father  and 
mother  previous  to  his  return  to  Hildesheim  School, 
he  had  come  to  use  a  far  greater  weapon,  the  weapon 
that  is  like  none  other  in  its  range  and  effect,  the 
illimitable  power  of  personality  combined  with  under- 
standing. The  little  Teuton  schoolfellows  were 
never  again  to  be  his  enemies,  because  they  knew  that 

24 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Mark  was  vigorously,  if  oddly,  just,  with  a  justice 
that  he  felt  yet  could  not  explain.  Otto  Schmidt, 
sentimentalist  and  scientist  in  bud,  wrote  poems  to 
his  friend  whom  he  loved  with  a  dog-like  affection ; 
and  there  was  not  a  boy  in  the  day-school  who  did 
not  feel  the  depression  of  his  departure  with  an  in- 
dividual sorrow,  and,  after  the  fashion  of  their 
country,  they  wove  him  a  laurel  crown,  which  Marcus 
hung  upon  the  gas-bracket  and  burnt  to  ashes  amid 
much  cheering,  when  breaking-up  day  came  at  last. 
The  night  he  left,  Frau  Gail  knitted  in  a  dim  corner, 
and  blew  her  nose  frequently. 

"Nach,  nach,"  remarked  the  Herr  Pastor  irritably 
from  behind  his  paper.  "  It  is  well  that  Mark  Jan- 
over  has  gone." 

Frau  Gail  sniffed  audibly  and  made  no  response; 
she  did  not  love  the  lieber  Papa  at  that  moment. 

"  There  is  in  that  boy  a  spirit  that  is  soon  to  begin 
trouble.     In  my  school  there  can  be  but  one  master." 

Frau  Gail  broke  into  sudden  weeping. 

"  He  is  my  son,"  she  sobbed,  "  mine  loved  one,  and 
my  heart  is  sad." 

"Nach,  nach,"  said  the  Herr  Pastor,  rising  from 
his  chair.  "  Women  are  fools  and  sheep,  they  have 
not  intellect  nor  understanding.  Is  not  another  boy 
coming  from  England  to  take  his  place?  Is  not 
money,  the  same  amount,  paid  on  his  account?  Was?. 
You  will  make  me  very  angry,  Schwanhield." 

"  Mark  is  my  son,"  reiterated  the  gentle  Frau 
Gail,  also  rising;  and  gathering  her  knitting  in  her 
hand  she  passed  through  the  door  and  shut  it  noisily. 

"  Hochst  wunderbar!"  ejaculated  the  Pastor  in 
amazement  as  he  sat  down  suddenly  in  his  chair;  he 

25 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

drew  a  deep  breath,  and  turned  his  head  slowly  from 
side  to  side  as  though  he  wondered  if  it  were  really  his 
own  head  and  his  own  neck.  "  Schwanhield,"  he  said 
aloud,  "  das  dulde  ich  nicht  I'dnger." 

Mutiny  in  the  school  was  one  thing,  and  could  be 
stopped    by    various    means;    but    mutiny    in    the 

home At   such   a  prospect   the  Herr   Pastor's 

whole  soul  rose  within  him,  and  again  he  said  within 
himself  that  it  was  well  that  Marcus  Janover  had  gone 
from  under  his  roof. 


a6 


CHAPTER  Iir 

HOME  and  parents  were  such  visionary  words  to 
Marcus  Janover,  now  arrived  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  that  when  he  actually  found  himself  face 
to  face  with  both  in  one  short  hour  he  caught  himself 
considering  the  impression  first  of  London,  and  then 
of  Lady  Janover,  with  almost  cynical  calculation  of 
effect. 

Holland  had  been  cheerful  and  delightful.  One 
saw  roads  that  were  interesting,  and  sails  that  be- 
longed to  invisible  boats,  over  green  stretches  of  land. 
Further,  one  saw  windmills,  and  all  sorts  of  people 
love  windmills,  even  the  least  romantic;  little  carts 
drawn  by  racing  dogs,  toy  farms,  and  a  land  that  might 
almost  have  been  created  by  some  large  child  who 
had  a  passion  for  tulips.  Marcus  looked  out  over 
Holland  and  approved  of  it.  Then  came  the  Flush- 
ing boat,  and  the  boys  of  almost  a  whole  night  at  sea, 
and  then,  with  a  high  heart,  Marcus  prepared  to  do 
homage  to  his  own  land.  The  morning  was  dark  and 
rainy,  and  the  port  of  Queenboro'  was  drab  and  de- 
pressing ;  the  houses  looked  poor  and  the  people  looked 
sad ;  an  icy  wind  thick  with  sleet  flung  itself  about  him, 
and  the  coat  he  wore  turned  up  to  his  chin  felt  as  if 
it  were  made  of  newspaper.  As  the  train  raced  him 
towards  London,  he  stared  out  looking  to  find  the 
thing  he  sought,  the  illusive,  vague  desire  that  fled  like 
wisps  of  white  steam;  the  smiling  face  of   Home, 

27 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  intense  joy  of  return,  but  it  flew  ahead  and  always 
ahead. 

He  was  only  a  small  boy,  but  he  had  fought  for 
this  forbidding  country,  and  he  felt  disgusted  that 
not  so  much  as  one  ray  of  sunlight  welcomed  him. 
England  was  full  of  towns  with  large  suberbs,  at 
which  he  could  only  wonder,  and  yet  she  owned  the 
East  and  all  its  glory,  this  unlikely  home  of  heroes 
and  conquerors.  He  wondered  if  it  was  ever  fine 
weather  in  the  Island  of  his  dreams,  but  the  water- 
logged fields  looked  as  if  dry  days  were  the  exception. 
He  caught  sight  of  other  people  running  for  other 
trains  than  his  as  he  neared  London,  clerks  and  busi- 
ness men ;  women  also  conforming  to  the  same  type. 
Drab,  drab,  and  again  drab.  He  could  hardly  believe 
it  was  real.  This  could  not  be  the  land  of  the  Meteor 
Flag.  As  he  thought,  he  was  already  coming  into 
London  where  the  sleet  and  drizzle  thickened  into  a 
dirty,  icy  fog,  and  at  this  point  Marcus  Janover 
swore  —  a  fact  in  two  ways  regrettable.  First,  that 
at  his  tender  years  he  swore  at  all ;  and  secondly,  that 
he  swore  in  German. 

His  father  had  taken  a  small  house  in  Deanery 
Street.  Marcus  with  his  luggage  was  conducted  there, 
the  thrill  of  sudden  contact  with  London  touching 
him  like  an  electric  wire  and  awaking  a  new  interest 
somewhere  within  the  subtler  consciousness  of  his 
being.  He  was,  in  fact,  so  occupied  with  the  strange- 
ness of  this  sensation,  coming  like  light  through  a 
suddenly  lifted  curtain,  that  he  turned  his  mind  away 
from  the  prospect  of  meeting  these  shadowy  parents 
of  his,  and  groped  in  the  fog  with  his  facile  mental 
ability  for  the  quickened  understanding  of  concentrated 

28 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

power  that  lay  behind  the  blurr  and  beyond  the 
windows  of  the  cab.  There  was  something  there 
finer,  greater,  grander  than  beauty  or  cities  of  splendid 
distances,  there  was  something  vital  and  immense  in 
the  roar  and  the  dimness  akin  to  the  actual  creation 
of  force,  and  London  held  the  fierce  force  of  a  power- 
house, awful,  compelling,  and  darkly  grand.  Just  for 
one  moment  the  face  of  little  Marcus  flushed  and  his 
eyes  brightened.  She  was  "  worth  while,"  this  home 
unknown,  and  his  heart  beat  fast  as  he  stood  on  the 
pavement  opposite  the  white  steps  of  the  house  of 
his  destination.  He  thought  nothing  of  his  father  or 
of  his  mother,  he  only  drew  in  the  thick  heavy  smell 
of  London,  knowing  that  his  first  cold  chill  had  swept 
from  his  heart,  and  that  London  had  touched  the  soul 
of  him,  telling  him  he  belonged  to  her. 

He  turned  when  the  door  opened,  expecting  to  see 
his  mother  waiting  as  Frau  Gail  would  have  waited, 
with  open  arms,  and  was  shyly  preparing  himself  for 
the  fond  embrace ;  but  to  his  surprise  a  footman  re- 
sponded without  interest  to  his  inquiries,  and  informed 
him  that  Her  Ladyship  would  be  down  for  lunch  and 
that  Sir  Henry  had  not  yet  returned,  but  was  expected 
next  day ;  that  his  room  was  ready,  and  that  he  would 
show  him  the  library. 

Up  to  lunch-time  Marcus  wandered  over  the  house 
and  looked  out  of  the  windows.  He  was  frankly 
bored,  and  there  was  nothing  to  do.  His  mother's 
boudoir  was  full  of  flowers,  passionately  strong  of 
perfume,  and  there  were  a  number  of  photographs 
everywhere  of  a  young  man,  in  Hussar  uniform, 
polo  kit,  and  mufti,  signed  "  Chance."  Whoever 
**  Chance  "  was,  he  evidently  preoccupied  Lady  Jan- 

29 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

over.  So  far,  Marcus  was  not  critical,  he  was  merely 
collecting  vague  impressions  from  the  surroundings 
in  which  he  found  himself.  Frau  Gail  also  had  sur- 
roundings. A  work-basket,  an  account  book,  a  linen 
book,  a  Porzellan  book,  a  household  medical  book,  and 
a  large  cooker}'-  book;  these,  with  a  prayer  book,  fairly 
reflected  the  simple  literary  needs  of  the  Herr  Pastor's 
wife.  Lady  Janover  had  no  visible  work-basket,  and 
a  careless  and  somewhat  heavy  record  of  bridge  los- 
ings took  the  place  of  an  account  book,  but  there 
was  plenty  of  other  literature,  much  marked  with  a 
heavy  pencil.  "  Chance  "  liked  poems  of  a  kind,  and 
had  given  Lady  Janover  a  copy  de  luxe  of  "  Poems  of 
Passion";  he  had  also  given  her  "The  Garden  of 
Kama,"  and  Swinburne's  "  Poems  and  Ballads," 
hardly  a  line  of  which  was  read  without  its  irritating 
black  border.  Marcus  read  a  few  verses,  and 
wandered  on,  wondering  if  "  Chance,"  who  photo- 
graphically played  games  and  rode  chargers  or  racers 
in  his  busy  time,  spent  his  leisure,  pencil  in  hand, 
underlining  the  purple  passages  he  met  with  in  prose 
or  verse.  It  seemed  extraordinary  to  the  boy,  and  he 
sat  down  and  made  an  effort  to  become  interested 
in  a  book  entitled  A  Night  of  Strange  Sin.  It  sounded 
wicked,  but,  as  Marcus  learnt  later  with  regard  to 
much  else,  it  was  only  dull.  He  dropped  it  on  the 
floor,  weary  of  descriptions  of  kisses,  and  wondering 
why  any  one  should  find  it  amusing.  Presently  the 
door  opened  and  Lady  Janover  herself  came  in. 

She  was  still  wonderfully  pretty,  and  no  longer 
troubled  to  conceal  the  art  that  assisted  her  effective- 
ness. 

**  Oh,  Marcus,"  she  said,  as  if  she  had  just  found 

30 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

him,  **  what  a  huge  creature  you  are !  "  She  kissed 
him  quite  charmingly  and  put  her  head  a  Httle  on 
one  side.  "So  you  are  my  son?  I  must  admit  I 
feel  as  astonished  as  What'shername  did  when  she 
found  little  thingamy  in  the  bulrushes.  Back  from 
Germany  and  all !  " 

She  sat  down,  and  appeared  a  wonderful  blending 
of  gauzy  laces,  soft  dark  blue  silk,  scent,  and  pink 
roses. 

"  You  are  like  your  father " ;  she  looked  at  him 
and  looked  away.  "  He  said,  by  the  way,  that  I 
was  to  have  a  day  of  you  first,  so  you  won't  see  him 
until  tomorrow." 

"  I'm  sorry  he  isn't  here ;  "  it  was  the  first  remark 
that  Marcus  made,  and  he  said  it  very  slowly.  He 
thought  his  mother  was  extremely  pretty,  and  she 
struck  him  as  having  a  "  fashionable "  voice  and 
manner,  but  he  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  quite  liked 
her;  she  was  so  new,  and  so  aloof  in  spite  of  the  ease 
of  her  manner,  that  he  could  not  feel  as  if  she  had 
ever  held  him  in  her  arms.  She  ceased  to  make  him 
self-conscious  after  the  first  few  minutes,  and  he 
listened  to  her  with  odd  intentness,  not  attending  to 
what  she  was  saying,  but  thinking  of  her. 

She  talked  a  great  deal,  and  said  things  that  sounded 
as  if  they  ought  to  be  amusing,  and  every  now  and 
then  Lady  Janover  glanced  at  the  clock.  Very  evi- 
dently she  was  not  concentrating  upon  her  son,  and 
her  eyes  roved  to  the  door.  Marcus,  whose  replies 
were  entirely  unheeded,  wondered  inwardly  what  they 
might  both  be  waiting  for,  his  mother  with  fore- 
knowledge, and  the  boy  himself  as  innocent  of  any 
idea  of  what  might  be  coming  as  life  is  of  death. 

31 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 


't-> 


'A  slightly  shrewish  look  touched  Lady  Janover's 
face,  and  she  spoke  with  a  hard  note  in  her  voice. 

*'  Stop  thinking  at  me,  Marcus,  and  do  try  and  not 
look  Teutonic.  Passive  resistance  may  be  considered 
good  form  in  Germany,  but  here " 

She  broke  off  as  the  door  opened  and  the  original 
of  the  many  photographs  came  hastily  in. 

"  Chance  "  in  person,  as  often  in  life,  altered  every- 
thing; and  Marcus  was  entirely  forgotten,  either  as 
a  newly  found  son,  or  as  a  tiresome  little  boy. 
"  Chance,"  so  called,  as  Marcus  discovered  afterwards, 
from  a  habit  he  had  of  saying  "  I'll  chance  it,"  filled 
all  the  available  space  everywhere,  and  had  Marcus 
been  sensitive  or  essentially  an  egotist  he  would  have 
felt  deeply  and  irreparably  injured.  That  he  did  not 
feel  even  surprised  was  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  he 
had,  as  his  mother  put  it,  thought  "  at  "  her  in  his 
own  sustained  fashion,  and  was  quite  content  to  be- 
come once  more  a  child  spectator  of  a  play  he  did  not 
altogether  comprehend.  He  was  hopelessly  out  of  it, 
and  being  out  of  it  he  made  no  effort  to  force  himself 
within. 

At  night,  in  a  room  furnished  with  the  leavings 
of  all  the  other  rooms,  chaotic  in  effect  but  quite 
comfortable  in  reality,  he  sat  and  wondered  if  on 
the  morrow  he  would  find  that  his  father,  too,  was 
ruled  and  swayed  by  some  other  presentment  of 
Chance.  A  different  one,  of  course,  but  still  equally 
absorbing  and  strong  enough  to  complete  his  own 
negation.  If  such  were  the  case,  Marcus  began  to 
wonder  where  his  niche  might  be,  and  if,  indeed, 
there  w^as  any,  other  than  the  kind  heart  of  Frau 
Gail.     He  missed  her  suddenly  and  bitterly,  and  he 

32 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

gripped  his  hands  together  tightly  as  he  sat,  a  lonely 
little  figure,  on  the  side  of  his  small  bed.  Lady  Jan- 
over  was  dining  out  and  had  quite  forgotten  to  say 
good-night. 

It  was  late  next  day  when  he  came  face  to  face 
with  Sir  Henr}'  Janover  in  the  firelit  darkness  of  the 
library,  and  father  and  son  held  hands  for  a  moment. 
Marcus  looked  up  with  his  slow  introspective  eyes 
and  Sir  Henry  looked  silently  down,  hiding  his  own 
eagerness.  The  strong  blaze  of  the  log  fire  was  full 
on  the  boy's  face,  and  the  likeness,  combined  with 
the  unlikeness,  to  himself  caught  Janover  suddenly 
with  a  sensation  of  wonder.  He  had  made  a  mistake 
in  his  judgment  of  women,  a  mistake  that  warped  all 
his  after  judgments  where  women  were  concerned, 
but  with  men  he  could  be  sure  and  swift.  Sitting 
down,  he  turned  on  the  light  at  his  elbow  and  studied 
the  boy  carefully. 

Marcus  was  tall  and  slightly  built  for  his  age,  and 
his  silence  had  nothing  of  diffidence  or  awkwardness 
in  its  intensity.  His  features  showed  a  little  of  his 
mother's  beauty  in  their  regularity,  but  this  sugges- 
tion of  her  was  so  fleeting  as  to  be  almost  non- 
existent. His  forehead  was  low  and  broad,  and  his 
mouth  defiant  even  when  he  smiled.  But  it  was  not 
of  these  details  that  Sir  Henry  thought  as  he  took 
a  rapid  survey  of  the  son  he  had  wrought  and  hoped 
for;  it  was  his  eyes  that  held  him,  as  the  eyes  of  a 
man  hold  the  eyes  of  a  man.  Where,  in  God's  name, 
had  the  boy  got  those  eyes,  he  wondered,  and  to  what 
hidden  power  did  he  owe  the  depth  of  knowledge  and 
understanding  that   lived   so   intensely  within   them? 

33 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Something  so  inscrutable  and  comprehending  lay  be- 
hind the  straight  candid  look  that  Sir  Henry,  as  he 
spoke,  glanced  away.  He  talked  of  everything  that 
did  not  matter  very  much,  and  cleared  the  ground 
resolutely  with  an  effort  after  the  commonplace.  In 
his  own  mind  he  was  thinking  of  one  thing  alone,  and 
wondering  whether  Marcus  the  boy  could  by  any 
chance  be  starting  in  life  with  some  definite  clue  to  the 
complexities  and  riddles,  the  answer  to  which  is  most 
often  discovered  when  it  is  too  late  to  be  of  use. 
Marcus,  sitting  on  a  low  chair  by  the  fire,  knew  noth- 
ing of  what  his  father  thought.  He  was  quite  con- 
tented without  knowing.  He  felt  intensely  proud  to 
think  that  Sir  Henry  Janover  was,  in  a  sense,  his  own. 

He  knew  instinctively  that  he  had  been  glad  to  see 
him  beyond  need  of  speech,  and  that  they  understood ; 
that  the  innate  suggestion  his  father  bore  about  him 
of  strife  and  stress  lessened  in  the  moment  their 
hands  touched,  and  made  way  for  a  better  thing. 

"  He  is  only  a  boy,"  Henry  Janover  repeated  to 
himself,  stemming  his  desire  to  probe  into  the  heart 
that  coimted  so  infinitely  with  him.  A  boy  untouched 
as  yet  by  love  or  wrath,  far  by  years  from  any  moment 
when  he  might  say  that  there  was  nothing  in  life  to 
believe  in,  nothing  worth  war,  nothing  to  trust  in  or 
live  for.  Henry  Janover's  eyes  grew  hard  and  he 
stared  at  the  fire.  Surely  his  son  would  never  write 
himself  a  hedonist,  a  follower  of  the  idle,  cruel,  empty 
believers  in  dreary  joys. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  of  what  you  w^ould  like  to 
be?  "  he  asked  abruptly.  "  For  a  life  which  includes 
the  biggest  possibilities  and  impossibilities,  and  which 
should  get  you  thoroughly  well  inside,  there  is  tlie 

34 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Diplomatic.  That  means  work,  Marcus,  but  if  you 
have  grit  as  well  as  ambition  in  your  outfit,  it  is  the 
life  I  should  suggest." 

He  wondered  how  far  Marcus  had  understood  him 
and  how  far  he  had  followed  his  own  thought  into 
the  future.  When  ^Marcus  had  gone  to  bed,  he  still 
seemed  to  see  him  sitting  on  the  low  chair,  his  eyes 
touched  witli  the  restlessness  of  an  absorbing  will 
to  force  the  closed  gates  and  get  through  to  the 
wonderful  "  within." 

Henr}'^  Janover  looked  back  at  his  own  life  and 
thought  of  its  record  of  outward  success.  He  had 
lived  through  it  all,  fought  for  the  keys  and  held  them, 
and  had  found  little  worth  having  when  the  lock 
grated  and  the  doors  opened.  It  appeared  to  him  that 
he  had  lost  some  token  or  some  trivial  charm  early 
in  the  days ;  broken  some  little  link  that  did  not  seem 
to  matter  much  at  the  moment,  but  which  mattered 
incredibly  much  later.  The  boy  must  never  do  what 
he  had  done. 

He  thought  of  the  hopes  he  cherished,  and  how, 
in  the  person  of  Marcus,  those  hopes  took  bodily 
shape ;  and  then,  with  a  flash-like  leaping  from  point 
to  point  of  the  mental  process,  he  thought  of  the 
case  of  Harry  Austin  who  had  fared  East  with  him 
half  a  lifetime  ago,  and  whose  papers  he  had  gone 
through  ten  years  after  when  he  died  in  an  unspeak- 
able house  in  the  city  of  Madras.  Letters  written 
by  his  mother  over  a  period  of  several  years,  and 
unopened  by  her  son,  lay  tied  together. 

Sir  Henry  bent  over  the  fire  and  warmed  the  chill 
of  the  recollection  out  of  his  hands.  These  things 
could  and  did  happen;  his  son  had  to  take  his  chance 

35 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

with  the  others,  and  come  out  at  the  end  either  sub- 
missive and  beaten  or  among  the  company  of  the  men 
who  have  scored  and  scored  and  conquered  the  clue 
to  the  strange  puzzle.  Yet  he  too  was  also  among  the 
conquerors ;  sitting  bent  over  the  fire  he  realized  it, 
and  its  realization  brought  no  thrill  of  pride. 
There  was  no  divine  carelessness  in  Henry  Janover's 
retrospect,  no  irresponsible  touch  of  lyric  life  in  his 
memories.  He  had  come  no  nearer  to  the  hearts  of 
men  in  his  strong  calculating  defiance  of  the  individual, 
which  very  attribute  had  made  his  path  straight. 
Others  might  and  did  have  their  weaknesses.  Many 
of  his  own  time  had  been  brought  out  by 
various  means,  brought  out  of  the  narrow  way 
by  the  lures  or  loves  or  passions  of  their  own 
natures,  but  he  had  no  price.  Neither  for  fear  nor 
favour,  for  friend  nor  foe,  for  a  beautiful  motive  nor 
for  an  ill  one,  had  he  ever  moved  one's  hair's  breadth 
from  his  judgments.  Casson  had  broken  when  he  was 
well  on  the  way  to  follow  in  Janover's  footsteps, 
broken  hopelessly  over  the  eternal  stumbling-block 
—  the  personal  element.  Eastlake,  Rawson  —  a 
dozen  others  he  could  think  of  —  had  failed  because 
hardness  was  not  theirs.  It  was  certainly  an  advan- 
tage to  have  looked  well  and  long  at  the  Gorgon's  head, 
long  enough  to  be  turned  into  enduring  stone. 

But  the  boy  was  different.  Henr}^  Janover  thought 
of  the  odd,  bold  eyes  that  puzzled  him  and  haunted 
him,  and  the  clever  twist  of  the  clearcut  mouth;  the 
individuality  so  plainly  felt,  the  tremendous  hidden 
fire. 

He  got  up  slowly  from  his  chair  and  paced  the 
room,  his  hands  locked  behind  his  back.     He  was  try- 

36 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

ing  to  foresee  even  one  short  mile  of  the  way  that 
lay  ahead.  Two  years  more  of  German  schooling,  two 
years  of  English;  then  the  solid  foundation  would  be 
established.  Later  there  would  be  the  specialized 
training;  the  necessary  reading  in  the  book  of  the 
world.  Sir  Henry  Janover  walked  wearily.  He  had 
lost  a  great  part  of  his  former  force,  and  now  even 
his  restlessness  was  touched  with  fatigue,  but  still  he 
paced  on  monotonously,  his  eyes  turned  towards  the 
carpet  and  his  shoulders  bent  as  though  he  carried  a 
weight  heavy  as  the  burden  of  Christian  himself. 


Z7 


CHAPTER  IV 

ALL'  recollection  of  his  first  holiday  remained  with 
Marcus  not  as  a  shadow  thrown  on  a  magic 
mirror,  but  as  a  clear,  definite  memory,  and  most  of  all 
he  remembered  his  father.  Far  later  in  life  he  under- 
stood him,  but  when  he  returned  to  Germany  and 
to  his  school  he  had  not  come  to  the  stage  when  com- 
prehensive analysis  of  his  parents  became  part  of  a 
process  of  mental  introspection. 

Youth  ringed  around  with  all  its  glories  was  with 
Marcus,  and  its  finest  flavour  and  keenest  zest  was 
intensely  augmented  by  the  fact  that  in  the  quaint, 
hilly  German  tou^n,  with  its  painted  houses  and  its  two 
schools  perpetually  at  variance  one  with  another,  he 
found  a  friend. 

Eitel  von  Verlhof  was  half  a  year  older  than 
Marcus,  and  he  first  encountered  him  singing  to  him- 
self in  the  dormitory  as  he  pulled  his  clothes  out  of  a 
portmanteau.  Eitel  could  talk  English,  and  had  flaxen 
hair  and  quizzical,  kindly  eyes.  He  laughed  when  he 
looked  up  and  said  "  Hullo!  "  and  in  one  minute  a  seed 
was  planted  that  grew  like  the  mustard  seed.  They 
worked  together,  played  together,  persecuted  the 
Catholics  in  the  opposition  school  together,  shared  and 
shared  together,  talked  at  times  of  their  dreams  to- 
gether, until  life  became  a  thing  inseparable;  and  the 
school  accepted  the  friendship,  pointed  them  out  to 
strangers,  and  made  songs  about  them  or  laughed  at 
them,  as  their  natures  prompted,  much  as  long  ago  the 

38 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

people  who  watched  David  and  Jonathan  accepted 
them.  Of  all  the  tides  of  change  and  mutability  that 
ebbed  and  flowed  in  those  years  in  the  school  below 
the  hillside,  a  permanent  feature  was  the  foundation  of 
this  friendship.  Marcus  had  been  sent  to  school  to 
learn  many  things,  but  no  one  had  prefigured  that 
he  went  there  chiefly  to  make  Eitel  von  Verlhof  his 
alter  Ego  —  Eitel  with  his  kindly  eyes  and  his  amused 
laugh  for  the  rest  of  the  world;  his  tolerance,  set 
against  the  swift,  ruthless  indignation  that  now  and 
then  rode  the  soul  of  jMarcus,  who  at  the  end  of  his 
second  year  began  to  awaken. 

Eitel  was  quite  content  to  take  life  pretty  well  for 
granted,  and  to  avoid  gates  that  opened  into  strange 
countries  and  unknown  places.  He  was  unconsciously 
autocratic,  blessedly  and  cheerfully  so,  and  for  him 
there  were  no  problems. 

Growth  came  more  rapidly  at  the  end  of  the  second 
year.  Marcus,  back  from  a  stormy  holiday  spent  in 
Ireland  with  an  uncle  on  his  mother's  side,  returned 
seething  to  the  very  heart  of  his  oversensitive  nature. 
Von  Verlhof  listened  to  him  with  interest  not  unmixed 
with  astonishment.  The  miseries  of  Ireland  were 
nothing  to  him,  but  his  friend's  picturesque  way  of 
putting  things  awoke  a  distant  feeling  of  wonder. 
When  Marcus  was  savage  he  was  always  interesting, 
and  amid  the  story  of  political  warfare,  which  was 
incomprehensible  to  his  friend,  there  danced  in  and 
out,  like  sunlight  through  branches,  the  name  of 
"  Hesper  " ;  Hesper  Sheridan  who  also,  young  as  she 
was,  appeared  to  be  torn  by  this  same  hot  rage  against 
Ireland's  woes.  She  and  Marcus  had  felt  undoubtedly 
that  they  were  ready  to  be  martyrs  to  Freedom's  cause, 

39 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  Marcus  returned  to  Hildesheim  to  pass  on  the 
torch  to  his  friend.  It  was  in  those  talks,  fired  still  by 
the  gusty  memories  of  what  he  had  heard  and  seen, 
of  evictions,  of  trials,  of  proclaimed  districts,  that 
Marcus  expressed  his  feelings  on  Subjection  — "  Slav- 
ery," he  called  it  —  as  he  sat  beside  Eitel  on  the  sharp 
hill  behind  the  grey  turrets  of  the  school,  looking  out 
along  the  tram-lines,  and  out  away  farther  to  where 
Hanover  lay  in  the  flat  palm  of  the  open  land. 

"  You  can't  conquer  a  Nationality,"  he  said  in  his 
quick  vibrating  voice.  *'  You  can  stifle  it  and  drive 
it  under,  but  it  lives  on  and  on,  and  in  the  end  it  will 
become  strong  enough  to  pitch  you  out.  Ireland  will 
be  a  Nation  yet." 

Eitel  von  Verlhof  clasped  his  hands  behind  his 
blond  head  and  laughed. 

"  And  Hesper  will  grow  into  a  woman.  She,  like 
your  Ireland,  will  learn  to  be  obedient.  They  are 
alike,  Mark,  little  countries  and  women ;  and  the  big 
ones  like  England  and  Germany  take  them  and  put 
their  power  over  them " 

"  That  is  the  shame  of  it,"  said  Mark  quickly. 
"  It's  tyranny." 

"  It's  common  sense."  Von  Verlhof  shifted  his 
elbow  to  make  his  position  more  comfortable.  "  And, 
after  all,  nothing  else  matters.  You  have  to  see 
things  from  the  most  reasonable  standpoint." 

Marcus  narrowed  his  eyes  and  followed  the  sweep 
of  the  tram-line,  which,  in  accordance  with  the  law 
of  utility,  was  ugly,  eventless,  and  hard.  The  noise 
of  the  trams  sounded  like  an  abstract  of  cruelty. 
They  shrieked  and  jarred  and  grated,  but  they  were 
eminently  practical.     By  the  way  of  such  tram-line 

40 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

arguments  one  arrived  at  the  invasion  of  the  rights 
of  others,  and  in  a  sense  the  long  road  took  upon 
itself  the  presentiment  of  a  symbolic  pathway  across 
the  world.  His  wayfaring  soul  rose  to  the  call  of 
winding  paths,  but  as  he  watched  swaying  cars  cross 
and  heard  them  scream  as  they  crossed,  a  furrow  came 
between  his  eyes.  He  knew  that  Eitel  was  making  a 
traditional  answer  to  his  flare  of  revolt,  for  Eitel  was 
intensely  traditional  —  part  and  parcel  of  the  circular 
turrets  and  the  densely  solid  walls  of  his  father's 
Schloss  at  Waldenburg  in  Silesia,  where  Marcus  had 
spent  a  holiday  one  snowy  winter.  Eitel  was  voicing 
a  thought  true  to  the  soil,  whispered  out  of  the  past, 
tinged  with  unregistered  memories  and  significant  in 
him  as  sacred  history. 

"  Ireland  is  like  no  other  country,"  Marcus  said 
slowly.  "  It's  a  strange  place.  I  love  it,  and  I  felt 
as  if  all  the  Irish  in  me  came  up  to  the  top  the  minute 

I  landed ;  but  the  people Well,  the  people,  like 

us,  who  own  the  land,  live  in  a  world  about  the  size 
of  a  toy  train,  and  go  round  and  round  their  rails  and 
think  there's  nothing  else;  and  they  read  the  local 
Conservative  paper  and  nothing  else ;  and  as  for 
Europe  —  it  just  isn't  there ;  until  you  began  to  feel 
that  if  you  say  a  place  isn't  there,  it  doesn't  seem 
worth  bothering  about." 

"  Vortrefflich''  murmured  Eitel  cheerfully,  relaps- 
ing into  his  own  tongue.  "  I  wish  we  could  use  that 
plan  with  the  school." 

"  Only  one  more  term,"  Marcus  spoke  half  regret- 
fully. He  felt  a  sudden  call  of  retrospection  seize  him 
as  though  he  had  caught  some  tinge  of  fleeting  sadness 
that  fell  for  a  second  over  the  freshness  of  his  soul. 

41 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"When  school  was  done  with,  he  was  to  follow  witH 
faithful  concurrence  the  path  his  father  decreed  he 
should  tread.  Upon  that  the  fortunes  of  his  life 
turned,  and  Marcus  lay  over  on  his  face  and  pulled  up 
the  baked  grass  from  the  hot  earth,  reduced  to  sudden 
silence  by  his  friend's  remark. 

''The  world  is  a  good  place,"  said  Eitel,  "if  you 
let  it  be  good  to  you."  He  laughed  his  loud,  happy 
laugh.  "  What  was  it  the  Professor  told  you,  Mark  ? 
He  said,  *  In  this  boy  there  are  the  makings  of  an  in- 
defatigable analyst.'  Do  you  know  what  the  old  devil 
meant?  He  looked  just  like  an  alte  Schachtcl  in 
trousers;  but  I  shouldn't  take  his  advice  anyhow." 
Eitel  sat  up  and  began  to  put  his  own  views  forward 
on  the  subject  of  those  great  words  of  powerful 
mystery  Schicksal  and  Zufall,  fate  and  chance,  the  nar- 
rows through  which  one  came  to  a  career.  There  was 
an  innate  bigness  in  the  outlook  of  Eitel  von  Verlhof 
that  combined  itself  with  his  natural  personal  calm. 
To  him  inconsistency  was  puzzling  and  wrong.  He 
could  not  understand  any  condition  of  life  that  could 
force  actions  to  clash  with  convictions,  and  the  cross- 
play  of  human  nature  was  beyond  his  knowledge.  He 
had  in  him,  as  he  sat  talking  in  his  boyish  way,  far 
more  of  the  amazing  consistency  that  goes  to  make 
martyrs  than  Marcus,  who  lay  with  his  fingers  dug  into 
the  soil  listening  half  impatiently.  The  very  tran- 
quillity of  Von  Verlhof  made  him  the  more  telling, 
and  he  added  an  almost  stoical  equity  to  his  words 
by  the  stillness  of  body  which  he  preserved  as  he 
talked.  His  philosophy  of  life  required  but  a  few 
definite  rules,  and,  as  he  saw  it,  the  outlook  was  simple. 

42 


I 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

It  hardly  needed  saying  that  he  was  going  to  be  a 
soldier. 

"  My  father  says  that  there  won't  be  a  war  worth 
training  for.''  Marcus  chewed  a  tough  piece  of  grass 
as  he  spoke. 

"  And  my  father  thinks  otherwise."  Von  Verlhof 's 
eyes  grew  shadowed.  "  But,  anyhow,  you  and  I  don't 
know  much  yet,  Mark." 

Mark  looked  at  his  friend  thoughtfully.  It  was 
quite  true,  they  were  only  boys,  but  the  strange  faculty 
that  lay  deep  in  the  soul  of  IMarcus  Janover  stirred  in 
the  depths  as  though  touched  afar  off  by  some  in- 
vincible premonition  or  prepossession  which  led  him 
by  a  way  unknown  to  the  truth  in  things. 

They  learnt  at  school  of  the  greatness  of  the  old 
days,  greatly  recorded  for  them ;  ^Marcus  had  felt  the 
grandeur  of  the  Roman  way,  the  wonderful  conquer- 
ing passage  of  armies,  the  splendour  that  appealed  to 
a  boy's  heart,  and  he  knew  that  the  fortunes  of  a 
nation  began  in  the  head  of  an  individual.  The 
thought  filled  him  with  a  kind  of  intoxication  when  he 
dwelt  on  it,  and  he  wondered  if  it  were  possible  ever 
to  repeat  any  of  the  stories  of  the  Ages  in  an  age  that 
Tvas  so  entirely  different.  Eitel  did  not  particularly 
want  to  understand  anything  that  was  outside  his  own 
idea,  which  was  the  inherited  idea,  yet  in  these  great 
points  of  variance  they  still  comprehended  one  another 
in  spite  of  fundamental  difference. 

"  One  may  not  know  everything,  because  one  is 
young,"  Marcus  threw  in  the  suggestion  as  he  might 
have  thrown  a  pebble  into  a  stream,  "  but  one  may 
know  one's  own  particular  thing  better  than  any  one 

43 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

else.  I  wanted  to  be  a  soldier,  but  Dad  chose  some- 
thing different "     He  was  invincibly  shy  about 

mentioning  the  career  that  his  father  had  indicated. 
"  I  go  on  to  Oxford." 

"  And  I  —  I  think  I  shall  come  to  Ireland  when  I 
am  twenty-one  and  marry  Hesper."  Eitel  stood  up 
and  stretched  his  long  legs.  "  I  like  her  name ;  it  is 
like  the  name  of  one  of  your  British  warships." 

"Hest?  Oh,  Hest  is  only  a  kid."  Marcus  ap- 
peared to  think  she  would  never  progress,  so  little 
was  he  interested  just  at  that  moment  in  the  evolu- 
tion of  Hesper.     "  She  is  a  good  kid,  and  sensible." 

*' Are  you  coming?"  Eitel's  face  was  touched 
with  the  sunset  reflection,  and  it  flushed  him  as  men 
flush  with  great  joy  or  anger.  His  elbows  on  the 
sandy  soil,  and  his  bronze  hair  roughened  and  rumpled, 
Marcus  only  stared  away  over  the  plains  towards  the 
distant  towers  and  chimneys  of  Hanover.  Eitel  sat 
down  again;  the  mystery  of  leadership  held  him  with 
its  self-determined  power.  H  Marcus  was  not  going, 
it  only  remained  to  sit  down  and  wait  until  he  did  go; 
Marcus  was  obviously  meditative  at  times,  and  given 
to  forming  judgments  and  making  plans  in  silence, 
even  in  the  heart  of  the  cheerful  tumultuousness  of 
their  school  life. 

If  you  cannot  be  alone  for  various  reasons,  if  space 
declines  to  permit  it,  if  you  possess  one  of  those  per- 
ponalities  that  act  like  a  magnet  upon  others  and  draw 
them  perpetually  into  your  life,  if  you  have  no  hill  to 
climb  and  no  solitary  room  to  sit  in,  then  it  only  re- 
mains to  create  your  own  solitude  by  sheer  force  of 
will.  Marcus  did  not  want  Eitel  just  then.  He  saw 
things  immeasurably  distant,  all  the  thoughts  that  beat 

44 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

upon  him  coming  from  he  knew  not  where,  and  yet 
very  certainly  his  own.  Totally  indiifferent  to  Eitel, 
he  supported  his  chin  on  his  earth-stained  hands  and 
gave  himself  to  his  imaginings.  After  a  long  pause 
he  spoke  abruptly: 

"  I'd  rather  raise  Hell  and  die  in  a  street  fight  than 
give  in  to  force,"  he  said  violently,  and  jumped  to  his 
feet.     "  Come  on,  Eitel,  we  shall  be  late." 

So  the  days,  the  weeks,  and  the  months  passed 
by,  and  the  tide  of  Time  washed  Marcus  Janover 
gradually  onwards  towards  the  definite  ending  of  a 
boy's  day,  towards  the  indefinite  beginning  of  a  man's 
years,  towards  the  strife  and  the  tangle  of  responsible 
life  that  is  not  strewn  with  "  clean  roses." 

Somewhere  in  his  inner  mind  he  felt  that  he  was 
instinctively  a  revolutionary,  contrasting  acutely  with 
the  sunlit  cheerfulness  of  his  friend,  whom  Marcus 
firmly  described  as  a  reactionary.  He  was  born  to 
go  out  to  life  loving  it,  as  some  men  love  women  and 
as  others  love  marching  tunes:  the  garish  day  called 
loudly  to  Marcus,  and  as  all  the  world  loves  a  lover 
no  less  truly  than  it  loves  a  rebel  if  it  is  a  young  world, 
Marcus  was  unconsciously  magnified  and  honoured  and 
surrounded  by  affectionate  glory  owing  to  the  very  at- 
tractiveness of  his  type.  Central  Authority  did  not 
love  him,  but  it  knew,  looking  through  its  wise 
spectacled  eyes,  that  this  "  indefatigable  analyst "  was 
worth  all  the  training  it  was  able  to  give.  They  knew, 
because  most  of  them  were  Professors,  that  there  is 
always  a  strong  mixture  of  the  rebel  in  the  reformer, 
and  that  to  annihilate  the  reformer  is  to  destroy  ad- 
vance. They  knew,  if  they  ever  thought  about  any- 
thing beyond  the  school  doors,  that  the  way  of  the 

45 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

rebel  is  every  whit  as  stony  as  that  of  the  transgres- 
sor. 

Somewhere  a  test,  as  fierce  as  the  old  test  of  ston- 
ings  and  temptations,  scourgings  and  imprisonments, 
waited  patiently  for  Marcus  Janover.  Central  Au- 
thority had  nothing  to  do  with  that,  but  at  least  it 
could  prepare  him  efficiently  for  a  big  wrestle  with 
the  facts  of  life. 

Whether  his  school-fellows,  with  their  odd  desire 
to  think  his  thoughts  and  become  his  apostles,  did 
Marcus  much  real  good  it  is  difficult  to  say.  He, 
hearing  only  the  echo  of  virile  ages  in  his  own  ears, 
affected  them  deeply,  because  the  allurements  of  life 
were  set  forth  by  him,  all  unconsciously,  from  a  stand- 
point they  had  not  yet  reached.  When  Marcus  let 
himself  go  in  the  debating  society,  there  was  a  grim 
power  in  his  method  of  speech.  He  appeared  to  know 
things  that  they  did  not  know,  he  told  them  things 
that  remained  afterwards  slashed  into  the  very  fabric 
of  memor}',  and  he  pictured  action  and  always  action 
as  the  supreme  promise  of  life  beyond  the  school. 
There  was  nothing  finished  about  his  style  at  that  time ; 
the  schoolboy  talked,  but  talked  with  simple  directness 
that  brought  with  it  a  sharp  and  almost  painful  sense 
of  sincerity.  It  was  as  though  he  saw  that  the  thin 
thread-like  path  that  lay  dimly  outside  the  gates  was 
not  and  could  not  ever  be  a  path  of  pleasure  or  a  way 
of  content  and  comfortable  enjoyment;  and  it  was  evi- 
dent that  he  wished  for  nothing  of  the  kind  for  him- 
self. Life,  even  if  it  hurt  and  maimed,  was  his  de- 
mand, and  life  to  the  full  measure.  Most  of  the  boys 
thought  of  patriotism  as  a  matter  for  cheers  and  flags. 
Marcus  discerned  that  in  its  faithful  following  there 

46 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

was  also  a  service  of  agony;  he  heard  the  strange, 
alluring  call  of  difficulty,  abnegation  —  even  of  death. 

More  than  all  the  rest,  Von  Verlhof  enjoyed  the 
occasions  when  his  friend  thrilled  the  boys  with  his  odd 
discourse,  and  he  glowed  with  enthusiasm  at  the  crash- 
ings  of  the  ill-balanced  thunderstorm  which  Marcus 
rode  and  commanded.  The  school  forgot  that  he  was 
Irish,  or,  if  they  remembered,  it  did  not  matter;  they 
were  all  young  together,  and  a  sympathetic  rage  was 
with  them.  He  appealed  to  the  virtue  which  above 
all  others  is  first  in  school  life,  and  he,  being  one  with 
them  in  age,  cried  out  his  message  of  courage,  courage, 
and  again  courage.  To  be  a  skunk  was  to  be  low  in 
the  slime,  crouching,  crawling  through  life. 

At  length  the  breaking-up  day  arrived  which  was 
to  end  the  school  career  of  Marcus  Janover.  It  was 
a  great  day,  an  event  to  be  marked  always  in  the 
lives  of  the  boys  who  threw  the  yoke  behind  them 
for  good  and  all.  It  called  out  the  full  resources  of 
the  school,  and  accentuated  all  that  was  of  value  out 
of  the  past,  forming  it  into  the  nebulous  shape  of  a, 
mystic  Doge's  ring;  an  offering  to  the  future. 

Hildesheim  was  crowded  with  fathers  and  mothers, 
aunts  and  uncles,  blushing  girl  cousins,  and  friendly 
folk  who  came  to  hear  the  boys  do  their  part  in  the 
school  performance.  They  came  gaily  and  yet 
soberly,  after  the  fashion  of  their  nation  and  natures, 
and  Marcus,  well  used  to  having  no  one  there  to  single 
him  out  for  special  interest,  kept  quietly  in  the  back- 
ground. The  great  hall  was  decorated  from  end  to 
end,  and  the  crowd  filled  the  rows  of  chairs  set  in 
lines  along  the  floor.  At  the  back  of  the  dais  the 
Masters  formed  a  circle,   imposing  and  scholarly  in 

47 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

their  gowns.  In  the  centre  of  the  Masters  the  old 
Professor  who  had  described  Marcus  as  an  "  in- 
defatigable analyst "  sat  on  the  high  carved  chair  of 
honour. 

On  the  whole  it  was  a  solemn  assemblage,  almost 
as  solemn  as  if  the  parents  and  guardians  had  been 
permitted  to  see  beneath  the  strict  propriety  of  their 
sons'  conduct,  and  had  become  aware  of  possibilities 
that  disturbed  their  placid  and  preconceived  concep- 
tions of  what  was  right  and  fitting. 

As  boy  after  boy  took  his  prize  and  fulfilled  his 
part,  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  successful 
Schiilcrn  grew  enthusiastic,  and  the  colder  sensation 
of  constraint  dissipated  itself.  Eitel  had  received  his 
prize  and  was  sitting  between  his  mother  and  father. 

Baron  von  Verlhof,  clad  in  his  pearl-grey  uniform 
adorned  with  several  Orders,  stiff  in  the  back  and 
never  unforgetful  of  his  rank,  looked  like  a  splendid 
presentment  of  legitimate  war,  Eitel's  mother,  a 
pretty  dark-eyed  Austrian,  held  her  son's  hand  as 
though  he  were  a  child  of  three,  and  the  boy  blushed 
with  pleasure  as  his  father  commended  him  and  told 
him  he  was  ""  cin  gehorener  Deutscher."  Marcus  had 
seen  and  spoken  to  them;  they  had  always  been 
friendly  to  him,  but  he  cared  nothing  about  them  save 
for  the  fact  that  they  were  Eitel's  people.  His  turn 
■was  to  come  towards  the  end  of  the  program,  as  he 
had  taken  the  first  prize  in  a  school  debate  upon 
"  Freiheit,"  and  had  been  permitted  to  choose  a  recita- 
tion to  be  delivered  in  English,  suited  to  the  subject. 
The  entertainment  had  begun  to  bore  him  as  he  leaned 
with  his  back  against  the  wall  clapping  and  cheering 
comrade  after  comrade ;  his  outward  ear  was  attentive, 

48 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

but  inwardly  he  drifted  away  until  his  own  call 
came  and  he  bowed  to  receive  his  prize. 

Below  the  dais  the  faces  looked  dim  and  unreal 
as  Marcus  stood  in  the  centre,  his  own  face  pale  as 
wax,  and  his  half-mocking,  satiric  mouth,  set  so  clean 
and  well  moulded  in  his  boy's  face,  closed  tightly, 
holding  silence  tmtil  he  felt  sure  of  his  voice.  The 
atmosphere  around  him  changed  suddenly,  to  him 
touching  the  wild  heart  within.  Before  him  the 
audience  waited,  but  he  entirely  forgot  them.  Over 
their  dull  heads  he  saw  the  vision  luminous  that  the 
lines  he  had  chosen  inspired  in  him,  he  heard  the  song 
they  sang  to  him,  and  just  as  Eitel  began  to  feel  un- 
easy and  terror-stricken  lest  Marcus  could  by  any 
chance  be  going  to  fail,  the  heart-vibrating  tones 
rang  out  clear  as  a  bugle  through  the  big  crowded 
hall. 

Very  few  of  the  listeners  understood  what  he  said, 
but  even  without  understanding,  they  felt  that  there 
was  something  here  that  had  not  been  present  in  the 
personality  of  the  other  Schulern.  The  flash  of  fierce 
words,  the  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness,  the  chilling 
touch  of  something  dimly  realized  —  something  arising 
sheer  from  the  immeasurable  resources  of  sorrow,  and 
yet  grand  and  stirring, —  all  spoke  in  the  boy's  re- 
pressed fervour,  and  burned  in  his  eyes. 

"  Freiheit,"  murmured  the  Baronin  von  Verlhof , 
"  he  is  himself  Liberty,  Eitel  " ;  and  she  drew  in  her 
breath  and  watched  Marcus  with  half -frightened  eyes. 

Gradually  gaining  full  courage,  and  entirely  forget- 
ful of  everything  except  the  thing  he  saw  and  believed, 
Marcus  touched  the  perfect  conception  of  his  great 
subject,  perfectly  expressed: 

49 


.The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

She,  without  sheUer  or  station, 

She,  beyond  Hmit  or  bar, 

Urges  to  slumberless  speed 

Armies  that  famish  and  bleed. 

Sowing  their  lives  for  her  seed, 
That  their  dust  may  rebuild  her  a  Nation, 
That  their  souls  may  relight  her  a  Star. 

A  moment's  silence  followed  upon  the  conclusion, 
and  then  the  rasping  voice  of  the  old  Professor  made 
itself  heard : 

"Gut  gemacht,  Marcus  Janover,"  and  a  faint  flush 
tinged  his  thin  cheek-bones. 


$o 


CHAPTER  V 

HARDRESS  SHERIDAN,  brother  to  Lydia  Jan- 
over,  and  owner  of  Ardshane,  had  lived  his  easy 
hfe  in  the  ramshackle,  rambling  old  house  since  his 
return  from  his  English  School,  a  period  of  time  in- 
definitely removed  and  almost  forgotten  by  Hardress 
himself.  His  father  died  a  comparatively  young  man, 
and  thereby  saved  Lady  Sheridan  any  trouble  that 
might  otherwise  have  arisen  through  finding  a  suitable 
profession  in  life  for  a  young  man  of  spirit  and  sport- 
ing tastes;  and  Hardress  reigned  in  his  stead.  His 
life  was  in  no  way  different  from  the  lives  of  count- 
less others  of  his  own  class.  It  was  genial,  cheerful, 
racy  of  the  soil,  and  included  its  share  of  hunting  and 
poker-playing  and  a  yearly  visit  to  the  Derby. 

When  he  was  twenty-five,  and  his  only  sister  Lydia 
was,  as  he  put  it,  "  off  the  Parish,"  and  provided 
with  a  husband,  Hardress  began  to  think  of  matri- 
mony, and  in  doing  so  he  was  painfully  aware  that  he 
would  not  be  able  to  consult  his  owni  taste.  He  liked 
something  that  caught  the  eye  readily,  and  that  wasn't 
"  County'"  "  Thoroughly  nice  girls,"  he  said  in  a 
melancholy  voice,  "  are  always  the  deuce." 

Ardshane,  his  setting,  had  been  built  by  an  ancestor 
with  a  royal  disregard  of  coming  bad  times,  plans  of 
campaign,  and  organized  refusal  to  pay  rent.  Ard- 
shane was  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  inward 
personality  of  the  Sheridans.  They  did  not  look 
ahead;  that  was  the  family  attitude.     The  house  stood 

51 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

nobly  on  a  green  hill,  and  was  large  enough  for  the 
owner  to  house  a  'family  of  twenty  children,  which 
Great-grandfather  Sheridan  had  with  cheerful  careless- 
ness proceeded  to  do.  The  stabling  was  limitless,  and 
the  gardens  inside  the  eight-foot  famine  walls  enor- 
mously vast.  The  avenue  itself  required  six  men  to 
keep  it  as  it  should  be  kept,  and  the  house  required  a 
regiment  of  servants,  but  these  requirements  were  ig- 
nored by  its  present  owner.  Ardshane  had  all  the 
shabby  dignity  that  is  so  integral  a  part  of  many  Irish 
houses.  The  flight  of  steps  up  to  the  hall  doors  was 
wide  and  commanding,  the  grey  stone  of  the  many- 
windowed  house  dated  from  a  time  when  nothing  was 
done  cheaply;  the  flagged  hall,  crowded  with  dusty 
trophies,  was  on  a  scale  of  sheer  magnificence.  With 
typical  absence  of  forethought  the  Sheridan  who  built 
Ardshane  had  delighted  himself  by  adding  brass  ban- 
isters to  the  spacious  oak  staircase.  Flat  and  wide  and 
heavy,  these  banisters  demanded  miles  of  chamois 
leather  and  the  elbow  service  of  many  maids.  Beauti- 
ful ceilings,  smoked  and  blackened  with  the  grime  and 
dust  of  successive  generations,  told  of  the  taste  that 
had  dwelt  in  the  mind  of  the  original  designer,  and  the 
long-windowed  drawing-room  facing  the  river,  and  ap- 
pearing almost  to  hang  over  it  balcony-like  from  the 
height  above,  was  perfectly  proportioned. 

Portraits  of  the  Sheridans  hung  in  the  hall,  the 
dining-room,  the  drawing-room,  and  the  library;  they 
had  been  famous  for  their  beauty  and  their  bronze- 
red  hair,  and  famous  for  their  hard  riding  and  drink- 
ing, but  never  famous  for  much  else,  for  these  were 
their  gods,  and  they  gave  whole-hearted  worship. 

Sheridans   fought  stoutly,  but  never  became  very 

52 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

distinguished  in  the  profession  of  arms;  and  Sheridans 
who  had  been  courtiers  in  the  dreamlike  days  of  old 
had  invariably  espoused  losing  causes,  and  not  ended 
any  the  better  for  that.  Their  history  was  a  history 
of  lavish  mistakes,  made  lavishly  by  a  high-bred,  good- 
looking  family.  There  had  been  one  parson  among 
the  ancestors  who  broke  his  neck  steeplechasing.  and 
a  judge  of  the  High  Court  who  died  of  an  extra  bottle 
of  port;  there  had  been  scapegraces  by  the  dozen,  and 
one  terribly  baffling  and  brilliant  politician,  who  was 
cast  out  from  his  own  people  because  he  espoused  the 
wrong  cause  and  connected  himself  irretrievably  with 
Lord  Edward.  But,  whetlier  because  of  altered  times, 
or  because  they  had  reached  some  tenor  of  decline  and 
decay  as  nations  are  said  to  do,  the  Sheridans  were 
no  longer  the  Sheridans  of  the  great  portrait  era. 
Michael  Sheridan,  father  of  Hardress,  had  even  failed 
in  the  family  looks,  and  had  been  a  colourless,  unin- 
teresting individual,  shorn  of  the  profanity  and  the 
profligacy  of  his  father.  He  neither  drank  nor  swore; 
his  family  numbered  a  poor  two,  Hardress  and  Lydia. 
He  kept  on  the  roads,  and  thereby  earned  undying 
scorn  in  the  hearts  of  fox-hunters;  he  married  as  he 
was  told  to  marry  by  his  father,  and  dribbled  away  the 
fortune  which  was  the  ostensible  reason  for  his  union. 
He  believed  in  everything  and  everybody,  including 
financiers,  and  his  childish  faith  in  gold-mines  might 
have  ranked  him  first  as  a  student  of  Grimrns  Fairy 
Talcs.  Nothing  he  did  prospered,  and  the  avenue 
grew  more  weedy  and  the  house  more  desolate  under 
his  life  tenure,  and  at  last  withered  rather  than  died, 
and  joined  his  fathers  in  the  family  vault  in  the  church- 
yard by  the  sea. 

53 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

The  wife  who  had  provided  the  fortune  for  which 
he  had  married  her  looked  merely  a  careless,  lazy, 
easy-going  woman,  who  neglected  her  figure  and  grew, 
in  later  life,  averse  to  the  too  regular  use  of  a  hair- 
brush. She  adored  her  son  Hardress  with  a  tigerish 
fondness,  and  had  her  own  private  opinion  of  Lydia, 
which  found  vent  in  a  devout  "  Thank  God  "  when 
Henry  Janover  walked  out  of  the  church  with  her 
beautiful  daughter. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  "  hustler "  about  Lady 
Sheridan,  but  behind  her  lassitude  she  was  as  firm  and 
invulnerable  as  Ardshane  itself  behind  its  dust  and 
cobwebs,  a  fact  no  one  was  more  fully  alive  to  than 
the  idol  of  her  heart,  Hardress.  To  her  Ardshane  and 
the  County  were  things  fixed  and  immovable,  great 
stupendous  factors  in  life  that  had  to  be  regarded. 
The  Baronetcy  and  the  property,  albeit  its  yield  was 
small,  were  to  Lady  Sheridan  as  valuable  as  Troy  or 
Carthage,  and  having  never  travelled  beyond  the  power 
of  their  name  and  charm,  she  was  assured  that  the 
position  was  enviable  and  impregnable  as  a  fortress. 
Hardress  had  the  family  looks,  and  though  his  educa- 
tion had  been  expensive  and  produced  no  visible  re- 
sults, she  saw  in  him,  as  she  put  it,  "  a  man  any  girl 
would  be  proud  to  marry." 

To  marry  at  all,  unless  to  contract  an  alliance  with 
one  of  the  greater  names  of  the  County,  was  to  stoop, 
for  it  bounded  Lady  Sheridan's  view  as  entirely  as  the 
four  walls  of  a  room.  Of  course  if  money  in  large 
quantities  was  forthcoming.  Lady  Sheridan  was  pre- 
pared to  shut  her  eyes,  or  at  least  half -close  them, 
keeping  them  sufficiently  open  to  allow  her  daughter- 
in-law  to  realize  that  she  was  not  blind ;  but  money  was 

■54 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

scarce  in  the  South,  and  consequently  Lady  Sheridan 
became  aware  that  there  was  a  world  outside.  She  did 
not  know  —  indeed  how  could  she  have  known  ?  — 
that  heiresses  could  be  met  with  in  London;  but  she 
believed  in  American  solvency  because  she  had  read  of 
it  frequently,  and  also  because  Joe  Carrigan,  her 
nephew,  had  actually  married  an  American  who  "  did 
up  "  Moyle  Abbey  from  attic  to  basement,  and  made 
creditable  efforts  not  to  speak  with  too  pronounced  an 
accent. 

Cheered  by  the  outward  evidences  of  Joe's  wisdom, 
and  encouraged  by  the  very  evident  success  of  his 
matrimonial  venture,  Lady  Sheridan  slowly  made  up 
her  mind  to  accept  an  American  daughter-in-law  long 
before  even  the  dim  outline  of  such  a  possibility  arose 
over  the  horizon. 

Meantime  Hardress  graduated  in  the  school  of  life, 
and  made  love  where  and  when  he  willed  with  the 
light-hearted  prodigality  of  a  member  of  a  reigning 
house  who  knows,  and  expects  the  rest  of  the  world 
to  remember,  that  he  cannot  he  taken  seriously.  The 
serious  wooing  was  his  mother's  affair  more  than  his, 
and  though  more  than  one  girl  wiTh  whom  he  danced 
and  rode  felt  that  she  was  strong  enough  to  combat 
fat,  untidy  Lady  Sheridan,  they  all  ended  by  coming 
to  the  same  conclusion  which  the  early  Christians  ar- 
rived at  when  they  had  differences  with  the  beasts 
at  Ephesus  and  other  places. 

Lady  Sheridan  was  that  terrible,  incomprehensible 
thing,  a  silent  Irishwoman.  With  her  chin  on  her 
clenched  fist  and  her  eyes  full  of  inward  storm,  she 
could  conquer  an  army  corps  by  merely  sitting  still. 

One  autumn,  when  the  trees  had  turned  an  exquisite 

55 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

soft  yellow  brown  and  the  skies  were  clear  and  blue, 
the  future  Lady  Sheridan,  unconscious  of  her  destiny, 
arrived  to  stay  with  her  friend,  Agnes  Carrigan. 
Moyle  Abbey,  with  all  its  refinements  and  additions, 
could  not  call  the  startled  eyes  of  Penelope  Weston 
from  her  friend's  face. 

"  You  don't  look  well,"  she  said  sympathetically. 

Agnes  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Don't  you  marry  an  Irishman,  Pen  —  they're 
maddening.  If  it  isn't  themselves,  it's  what  Mother 
thought;  and  if  it's  not  Mother,  it's  Father;  and  if 
it's  not  Father  it's  Grandfather,  and  Great-grand- 
father, and  in  the  end  we're  back  to  Adam  and  Eve 
and  what  they  thought.  And  out  and  beyond  again 
there's  the  County,  and  all  the  things  you  do  and 
say  that  the  County  didn't  do  and  haven't  done  and 
would  never  do  and  'can't  pardon.'  If  they  thought 
as  much  about  God  Almighty  as  they  do  of  the 
'  County  '  I'd  scratch  for  my  chance  of  Heaven,  be- 
cause it  would  only  be  tlie  Members'  Stand  at  Moyle 
Park  over  again,  with  a  gold  floor  to  it." 

Penelope  Weston  started  with  a  warning,  but  the 
warning  did  not  deter  her  from  following  her  own 
heart. 

Lady  Sheridan,  brooding  in  the  dimly-lit  drawing- 
room,  her  chin  on  her  closed  fist,  repeated  at  different 
angles  in  tall  shining  mirrors,  dimly  as  though  seen 
through  tears,  heard  of  her  arrival,  and  sat  thinking, 
amid  the  dust  and  the  beauty  around  her,  oblivious 
of  both.  At  last  the  wife  she  had  waited  for  had 
come  within  reach.  Had  Penelope  Weston  been  as 
ugly  as  a  chimpanzee  it  is  quite  possible  that  Hardress 
Sheridan  would  have  married  her  just  the  same.     As 

56 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

it  was,  she  was  pretty,  original,  and  well  dressed, 
and  he  found  her  quite  delightful.  She  appeared, 
too,  really  to  appreciate  the  distinction  he  conferred 
upon  her,  and  though  she  had  a  strange  taste  for  buy- 
ing and  reading  books,  and  seemed  to  find  Cork  a  little 
inferior  in  interest  to  Rome  or  Venice,  he  did  not  for 
one  moment  suspect  her  of  the  horrid  taint  of  "  clever- 
ness " ;  besides,  too,  she  was  smartly  clothed  and  she 
did  not  wear  glasses. 

In  due  time  Lady  Sheridan  removed  to  the  Dower 
House,  and  Hardress  and  his  Lady  took  up  their  lives 
at  Ardshane. 

Once  again  Ardshane  conquered. 

To  renovate,  to  staff,  and  to  finance  Ardshane  was 
beyond  the  power  of  Lady  Sheridan.  Her  money 
seemed  endless  to  Hardress,  whose  addition  sums  were 
chiefly  concerned  with  his  overdraft  at  the  Bank ;  but 
Ardshane  knew  otherwise,  and  gradually  the  old  blight 
descended  slowly  upon  the  fresh  gildings,  and  the  brass 
banisters  no  longer  shone.  An  appearance  of  comfort 
was  retained,  but  only  at  the  curtailment  of  all  out- 
side expenses.  Foreign  travel  was  not,  books  became 
a  luxury,  Penelope  Sheridan's  French  maid  vanished, 
and  all  outlay  was  concentrated  upon  the  stables  and 
"  the  things  Hardress  liked."  Penelope,  bewildered 
as  a  lost  child,  grew  thin  and  sharp  of  tongue,  and 
Lady  Sheridan,  brooding  in  her  eternal  silence  in  the 
Dower  House,  asked  in  her  every  look  for  the  coming 
of  an  heir,  who  tarried  and  tarried  and  seemed  like  to 
tarry  eternally. 

Her  son  was  always  dutiful.  From  the  first  he  had 
delivered  up  his  soul  and  his  conscience  to  his  mother, 
and  gone  on  without  them,  coming  back  to  her  to  have 

57 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

them  lent  to  him  for  special  occasions;  and  after  his 
marriage  he  frequently  rode  to  the  Dower  House  and 
discussed  matters  with  her  when  they  grew  beyond 
him.  She  told  him  that  he  wanted  to  marry  Penel- 
ope, and  later  she  told  him  he  wanted  an  heir.  Penel- 
ope, sick  of  life  and  childless,  inured  in  Ardshane, 
wondered  when  her  mother-in-law  would  tell  her  hus- 
band that  she  was  a  failure.  So  long  as  Lady  Sheri- 
dan kept  from  uttering  that  terrible  last  fiat  there 
might  be  some  hope  left  in  their  future ;  Lady  Sheridan 
could  not  be  immortal,  but  while  she  remained  above 
ground  she  menaced  eternally,  bitterly  revengeful 
against  her  son's  wife. 

After  their  eighth  year  of  marriage,  when  life  had 
grown  into  a  condition  of  steady  monotony  broken  by 
fits  of  temper  on  the  part  of  Penelope  and  rocket-like 
efforts  on  the  part  of  Hardress  to  retrieve  losses  by 
backing  possible  winners,  the  desired  event  at  last,  and 
without  any  wild  anxious  acclaim  and  excitement,  be- 
came a  sudden  definite  possibility. 

Once  more  old  things  were  made  new  and  Hardress 
became  a  lover.  Joy  blossomed  again,  and  Penelope 
took  back  her  youth  and  prettiness;  even  Lady  Sheri- 
dan forgot  to  brood,  communing  with  her  clenched  fist, 
and  a  touch  of  humanity  fell  like  dew  from  Heaven. 
The  County,  the  smart  and  the  ramshackle,  became 
tensely  interested.  Penelope  was  not  and  never  had 
been  of  them,  but  a  son  stood  for  something  definitely 
belonging  to  them  all. 

Ardshane,  the  cynical  old  house  that  superimposed 
itself  upon  the  lives  of  its  owners,  was  swept  into  the 
carnival  mood.     The  nursery  was  prepared,  the  cot 

58 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

that  had  cradled  a  dozen  unsuccessful  members  of  the 
family  was  renewed,  and  Lady  Sheridan  herself  super- 
vised the  arrangements.  "  My  grandson  "  were  words 
she  frequently  used  when  issuing  orders  to  the  serv^ants, 
and  there  was  not  a  living  soul,  including  the  doctor, 
who  dared  to  suggest  that,  as  far  as  they  knew,  the 
sex  of  the  child  was  still  problematical.  Hardress  had 
been  told  by  his  mother  that  he  was  to  be  the  father 
of  a  boy,  and  he  accepted  her  judgment  as  final.  He 
liked  the  idea  of  it  immensely,  being  one  of  those  men 
who  are  indifferent  to  wives  after  a  short  lapse  of  time, 
but  strongly  attached  to  their  children,  which  embodies 
the  most  acute  form  of  egotism. 

Under  the  sway  of  suggested  ideas  Penelope  was 
equally  sure  that  her  child  was  to  carry  on  the  vague 
traditions  of  the  house,  which  he  could  have  done, 
without  her  effort,  since  merely  to  live  at  Ardshane, 
hunt,  shoot,  and  try  to  marry  money  represented  the 
bare  facts  devoid  of  embellishment. 

One  bleak  March  morning  the  house  was  awakened 
in  the  cold  chill  hour  before  dawn,  and  by  daybreak 
Lady  Sheridan  was  sitting,  fiercely  and  tempestuously 
silent,  waiting  to  receive  her  grandson.  His  robe  lay 
over  her  knees  and  his  cot  was  placed  near  the  fire. 
She  had  borne  her  own  troubles  differently  to  Penel- 
ope, and  her  scorn  of  physical  weakness  gloomed  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Keep  the  fool  quiet,"  she  said  wrath  fully  to  the 
nurse,  and  ever  again,  "  Keep  the  fool  quiet." 

Hardress,  told  by  his  mother  that  he  was  not  wanted, 
went  off  with  his  small  pack  of  harriers,  and  only 
returned  later  on  when  the  day  had  made  up  its  mind 

59 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

to  be  steadily  wet.  He  was  not  anxious  in  the  least. 
His  mother  had  told  him  that  there  was  no  need  to 
be,  and  yet  his  Celtic  nature  was  touched  with  a  sense 
of  coming  trouble  as  he  crossed  the  hall  followed  by 
a  muddy  hound.  Everything  was  unaccountably  still 
within  doors,  and  the  only  servant  visible  disappeared 
at  his  approach  like  a  fleeting  shadow.  He  went 
quickly  up  the  staircase  and  passed  into  the  room  where 
his  mother  was  sitting.  On  the  threshold  he  paused  a 
moment,  the  stinging  fear  of  death  catching  him  like 
a  descending  avalanche. 

*'  What's  wrong,  Mother  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  choked 
voice. 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  rending  the  thin  flimsy  robe  she 
held  as  though  it  was  tissue-paper. 

"  In  there,"  she  said  harshly,  pointing  at  the  door 
of  communication  to  his  wife's  room,  "  you  wull  find 
Penelope's  daughter." 

All  the  rage  of  the  ages  trembled  in  her  tone,  and  her 
eyes  looked  like  flints. 

Hardress  took  a  deep  breath. 

"  By  God,"  he  said,  passing  his  hand  over  his  face, 
"it's  a  girl,  is  it?"     And  with  a  ridiculous  plunge 

from    the    wider    issues    entailed  — "  What    the 

We've  not  even  chosen  a  name  for  her." 

Neither  mother  nor  son  thought  or  spoke  of  his 
wife. 

**  Name !  "  sneered  Lady  Sheridan ;  "  the  dog  at  your 
heels  may  give  her  a  name  for  aught  I  care." 

Hardress  opened  the  door  quietly  and  went  into  the 
bedroom  beyond. 

"  Hullo,  Pen,"  he  said  in  his  careless  way.  "  so  you 
took  a  rise  out  of  us  all.     Where's  the  daughter?  " 

60 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Penelope  turned  feebly  and  touched  the  sleeping' 
bundle  at  her  side. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Hardress,  but  it's  hardly  my  fault." 

Hardress  looked  at  the  baby  with  sudden  clumsy 
tenderness.  She  was  so  tiny,  so  odd,  and  she  was  his 
own.  He  raised  the  shawl-swathed  atom  of  humanity 
and  held  it  lovingly. 

"  I'm  damned  glad  to  have  her."  There  were  tears 
in  his  eyes,  and  the  sad-eyed  hound  sniffed  around  him 
inquisitively  as  he  sat  on  a  low  chair. 

Penelope  neither  moved  nor  spoke ;  her  bolt  was 
shot,  and  she  cared  nothing  for  anything. 

"  She's  got  to  be  called  Hesper."  Hardress  cleared 
his  throat,  and  glanced  up  to  see  the  nurse  motioning 
him  to  go. 

"  She's  got  to  be  called  Hesper;  Mother " 

"  Lady  Sheridan  needs  entire  rest,"  suggested  the 
nurse,  and  her  tone  was  full  of  the  memory  of  some- 
thing too  dreadful  to  speak  of,  called  up  into  fresh  life 
by  his  mention  of  his  mother. 

Slowly  and  unwillingly  he  relinquished  the  soft,  help- 
less, little  sleeping  thing,  and  with  the  hound  padding 
behind  him  he  left  the  room. 

That  night  Penelope  Sheridan  crossed  the  Great 
Divide,  and  Hardress  mourned  her  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  his  mother  had  not  expressly  stated  that  he 
was  to  do  so. 

With  an  odd  tenacity  he  insisted  that  having  once 
called  the  child  Hesper,  Hesper  she  must  remain. 
What  is  unlucky  in  the  stable  may  be  unlucky  outside 
the  stable,  and  he  would  not  be  induced  to  alter  his 
decision. 

In  vain  Lady  Sheridan,  quite  unreconciled  to  the  sex 

6i 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

of  her  grandchild,  pointed  out  that  there  had  never  been 
a  Hesper  in  the  family, 

"  Well,  there's  one  there  now,"  he  replied  doggedly, 
"  and  .what's  more,  it's  your  own  doing." 


62 


CHAPTER  VI 

TTESPER  SHERIDAN  never  knew  that  she  had 
J_  J[  not  been  wanted,  she  never  knew  that  her  mother 
had  died  chiefly  because  she  was  a  girl  and  not  a  boy, 
for  by  the  time  that  she  was  old  enough  to  notice  any- 
thing old  Lady  Sheridan  had  been  carried  feet  fore- 
most out  of  the  Dower  House,  and  had  no  hand  nor 
lot  in  the  moulding  of  her  grand-daughter's  fate. 

By  the  time  Hesper  was  thirteen,  and  when  Marcus 
first  became  acquainted  with  his  cousin,  she  had  estab- 
lished her  rule  so  emphatically  upon  the  household  of 
Ardshane,  that  her  privileges  and  rights  were  limitless, 
and  her  father  neither  thwarted  nor  controlled  her  in 
any  way. 

She  had  been  sent  to  school  in  England,  because  old 
Lady  Mary  Carmoyle,  a  relative  of  her  father's,  drove 
twenty  miles  in  a  covered  car  on  two  separate  occa- 
sions to  arrange  the  affair;  and  eventually,  by  dint  of 
briber}^  had  induced  Hardress  to  agree.  She  said  if 
he  agreed  to  her  plan  she  would  leave  Hesper  the  thou- 
sand pounds  she  had  intended  to  bestow  upon  Foreign 
Missions.  Hardress  knew  the  value  of  money,  and 
though  he  hated  parting  with  the  child,  gave  in  re- 
luctantly, and  permitted  Hesper  the  advantages  of  an 
education.  He  could  not  stand  between  Hesper  and  a 
chance  of  buying  a  good  racer  when  she  was  twenty- 
one. 

So  far  as  education  was  concerned,  he  despised  it. 

"  A  good  pair  of  eyes  are  worth  more  than  a  head 

63 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

full  of  Latin,"  he  said  gloomily,  and  he  clung  tena- 
ciously to  the  belief  that  if  a  girl  could  write  her  name 
legibly  and  read  the  newspaper,  it  was  as  much  as  any 
reasonable  man  required  of  a  wife.  His  own  sister, 
Lydia,  "  hadn't  done  so  badly,"  and  she  had  avoided 
all  the  pitfalls  following  upon  the  knowledge  of  too 
much  grammar  or  arithmetic ;  but,  as  her  brother  said, 
"  she  knew  what  two  and  two  made,  and  that  got  her 
started." 

Hardress,  after  so  many  years  of  consultations  with 
his  mother,  left  without  any  one  to  consult,  found  that 
he  had  at  last  some  love  to  give,  and  without  hesitation 
he  bestowed  it  upon  his  daughter.  Hesper  became  the 
idol  of  his  life,  and  the  years  during  w4iich  he  sacrificed 
himself  for  her  future  benefit  were  full  of  emptiness 
for  him.  Again  and  again  he  swore  that  he  would 
have  the  child  back  and  let  the  thousand  pounds  go  to 
the  missionaries;  but  the  odd  strain  of  stinginess,  which 
is  not  unfrequent  amid  all  the  lavish  recklessness  of  the 
Celtic  nature,  held  him  back,  and  he  endured  the  school 
terms  as  well  as  he  could. 

Had  old  Lady  Sheridan  lived  she  would  certainly 
have  brought  about  a  second  marriage:  but  dead,  she 
was  powerless  at  last,  and  Hardress  had  grown  rapidly 
past  the  lover's  age  when  he  wanted  a  wife,  and  in- 
stead he  turned  all  his  affection  towards  his  little  un- 
wanted daughter. 

Hesper  was  slim  as  a  rush,  light  of  movement,  gay, 
quick,  and  songful  as  a  young  bird.  Her  red-gold  hair 
floated  round  her  like  a  cloud,  and  her  green  eyes  had 
the  curious  effect  of  changing  from  emerald  to  jade  as 
her  moods  varied.  Without  being  beautiful  in  the  ex- 
act sense  of  the  word,  her  colouring  marked  her  out  as 

64 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

uncommon,  and  her  character  showed  early  signs  of 
being  entirely  out  of  the  common  reckoning.  She  was 
the  first  Sheridan  in  the  family  who  combined  courage 
with  judgment,  and  who  understood  anything  at  all  of 
the  normal  perspective  of  life.  All  the  others  had 
accepted,  without  inquiring  any  further,  everything 
that  was  accepted  by  their  particular  set  and  faction. 
Hesper  had  the  amazing  audacity  to  think  for  herself; 
and  though  she  kept  some  of  her  thoughts  to  herself 
so  as  "  not  to  worry  Dad,"  the  process  of  thinking 
continued. 

When  Lydia  had  the  happy  thought  of  sending  Mar- 
cus to  Ardshane  for  his  holiday  one  winter,  Hesper  felt 
very  much  as  though  she  was  about  to  meet  a  young 
Ulysses.  The  travels  of  Marcus  appeared  so  amaz- 
ingly vast  and  lengthy,  and  she  had  known  so  few  ad- 
ventures; it  made  matters  easier  to  find  that  at  first 
she  could  ride  very  much  better  than  her  cousin,  and 
that  she  was  also  a  better  shot.  It  assisted  her  young 
vanity  to  feel  herself  superior  in  the  matters  that 
scored  high  in  the  County,  for  she  knew  that  the  only 
accomplishments  that  made  any  mark  must  be  done 
with  hands  and  feet,  and  that  games  and  sport  ranked 
first  and  last  and  intermediately.  Still,  when  Marcus 
caught  her  up  and  did  all  these  things  better  than  she 
did,  she  experienced  no  touch  of  jealousy.  Always  he 
would  remember  that  it  was  she  who  had  shown  him 
first  how  to  sit  to  a  rasping  double,  and  how  to  cast  a 
line  unerringly,  and  a  pride  in  his  achievements  took 
the  place  of  rivalry. 

When  Hesper  left  school,  life  seemed  to  pause  omi- 
nously. She  had  acquired  a  taste  for  work,  and  she 
enjoyed  it.     Ardshane  lay  before  her  as  her  goal,  and 

65 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Ardshane  in  the  holidays  was  a  different  place  to  Ard- 
shane  without  relief  month  in  and  month  out.  It  be- 
came doubtful  whether  Lady  Mary's  deflection  from 
Foreign  Missions  had  been  altogether  justified,  but 
Hesper's  leavening  of  steady  common  sense  restored 
the  equilibrium,  and  she  settled  down  to  the  altered 
condition  of  things.  So  far  as  she  could  she  attacked 
the  problem  of  Ardshane  itself,  and  combated  its  sullen 
determination  to  get  as  full  of  dust  and  mildew  as  it 
well  could,  fighting  the  old  house  gallantly,  and  even 
making  some  faint  impression  upon  its  inward  condi- 
tion. She  loved  it  fondly,  just  as  she  loved  the  hounds 
and  the  horses  and  the  purple  mountains  that  lay  be- 
yond the  shining  river,  and  the  gay  gorse  hill  that 
sloped  away  below  the  house;  and  in  her  own  happy 
youth  she  did  not  feel  the  sadness  of  the  country,  or 
the  present  sense  of  some  tragic  fate  which  in  Ireland 
lurks  in  the  brightest  summer  day. 

Hesper  radiated  a  permanent  joyousness  that  was 
as  full  of  warmth  as  a  fire.  She  was  a  strangely  at- 
tractive and  rare  mixture  of  feminine  boyishness. 
Her  hats  cocked  themselves  a  little  to  one  side,  do  what 
she  would  to  keep  them  straight,  and  Hesper  going 
round  the  stables  with  a  straw  in  the  corner  of  her 
poppy-red  mouth  was  as  natural  and  as  charming  as 
could  be  imagined.  She  banded  her  hair  close  to  her 
head  and  divided  it  at  the  side.  It  had  retained  its 
colour,  the  colour  of  an  autumn  chestnut  leaf,  tinged 
with  red  brown,  a  fact  that  Lady  Mary  sighed  over 
sadly. 

"  Your  hair,  my  dear,  is  far  too  remarkable.  What 
a  pity  you  were  not  dark!     But  then,  the  Sheridans 

66 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

have  all  that  odd  hair.  If  you  are  plain  it  makes  you 
worse;  and  if  you  are  even  moderately  passable,  people 
say  you  dye  it." 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  say,"  said  Hesper,  and 
meant  every  word  of  it.  She  did  not  care.  The 
County  meant  nothing  at  all  to  her,  the  select  tennis 
club  at  ]\Ioyle  inspired  her  neither  with  awe  nor  with 
interest,  and  she  lived  her  own  life  with  her  father, 
apart  and  remote  from  the  other  lives  around  her. 
As  for  the  County,  they  were  moved  to  a  dull  re- 
sentment of  her  attitude.  They  thought  she  took  after 
her  American  mother,  which  was  inexcusable,  and  they 
thought  too  that  her  style  was  studied.  Her  short 
skirts  and  plain  hats  were  considered  "  queer."  She 
wore  neither  patent  leather  shoes  nor  pearls  at  the  Cork 
Park  Meetings.  She  had  openly  Nationalist  tend- 
encies, and  took  no  interest  in  the  Cavalry.  All  these 
points  indicated  that  Hesper  was  not  normal. 

From  her  father's  point  of  view  she  was  perfection. 
She  knew  as  much  about  racing  as  he  did  himself ;  she 
rode  magnificently;  and  her  other  qualities,  those  hid- 
den qualities  of  the  brain  which  were  at  a  discount  in 
the  County,  were  never  obtruded.  Instinctively  he  was 
aware  that  she  did  know  a  number  of  things ;  that  she 
appeared  to  take  an  interest  in  what  happened  in  places 
like  Russia  and  India;  she  had  quantities  of  ideas,  but 
they  never  cut  her  off  from  actualities,  and  he  was 
proud  to  think  that,  "  if  necessary,"  Hesper  could  talk 
to  a  barrister  or  a  bishop  "  and  not  let  them  have  the 
legs  of  her  over  any  course." 

If  Hesper  went  walking  on  unknown  heights,  she 
didn't  demand  that  her  father  should  accompany  her, 

67 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  their  strong  sense  of  comradeship  was  not  touched 
or  chilled  by  the  cold  winds  blowing  from  the  fields  of 
thought. 

Hardress  was  a  Conservative,  as  all  his  fathers  had 
been  before  him.  He  was  an  Irishman  who  loved  his 
country,  and  in  his  heart  rather  despised  the  Britisher, 
yet  he  believed  that  to  give  the  Irish  one  inch  of  in- 
dependence was  to  call  down  fire  and  brimstone  out 
of  Heaven.  Individually  he  considered  the  Catholic 
Priest  a  good  fellow  and  a  good  sportsman,  but  col- 
lectively he  harboured  a  conviction  that  they  were 
dangerous  fanatics  who  desired  to  burn  Protestants  at 
the  stake.  He  constantly  averred  that  his  own  tenants 
all  longed  to  shoot  him,  and  that  they  were  black- 
guards and  murderers ;  he  refused  to  sit  upon  the  Bench 
with  the  recently  made  Justices  of  the  Peace,  and  cut 
the  Board  of  Guardians  dead.  His  fathers  had  told 
him  that  the  people  were  bad,  and  anything  that  was 
based  upon  the  ancient  faith  of  the  Sheridans  was  a 
law  with  Hardress.  Poachers  and  campaigners,  dis- 
loyal rioters,  shooters  of  Landlords  and  Agents;  of 
such  was  the  kingdom  of  Munster. 

To  hear  Hardress  talk  politics  was  to  hear  the 
strangest  gospel.  Like  Dean  Swift,  he  was  quite  pre- 
pared to  '*  burn  everything  that  came  from  England," 
but  he  was  equally  indignant  towards  the  Irish.  His 
wrongs  were  stupendous,  and  his  ideas  of  setting  them 
right  were  forcible  and  almost  mediaeval.  He  was  all 
for  strong  measures,  shooting  and  burning,  Martial 
Law,  destruction  on  a  large  and  sweeping  scale,  and  yet 
it  was  the  people  who  made  the  country,  and  who, 
through  the  very  attributes  he  objected  to,  had  made  it 
possible  for  the  Sheridans  to  be  what  they  were  in  the 

68 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

past,  and  even  in  the  present.  He  quoted  the  superior- 
ity of  the  Enghsh  peasant,  unaware  that  he  would  not 
have  been  able  to  endure  that  superiority  for  one  short 
month  any  more  than  he  could  have  borne  with  a  staf? 
of  highly-trained  English  servants  in  his  house.  If  he 
had  really  meant  one-half  of  what  he  said,  he  would 
have  dug  trenches  around  Ardshane  and  turned  it  into 
a  fortress,  or  have  left  the  country  for  another  where 
at  least  life  and  limb  were  safe. 

He  was  used  to  talking  in  this  strain,  and  he  believed 
that  he  only  stated  facts.  Had  not  old  Lady  Sheridan 
said  she  always  expected  to  have  her  throat  cut  ?  The 
tenants,  well  used  to  this  attitude,  went  indifferently  on 
their  own  way.  They  knew,  none  better,  that  the 
''  quality  ''  always  talked  like  that  about  them,  and  they 
neither  expected  nor  desired  anything  else.  The  more 
far-seeing  of  them  realized  that  it  was  better  for  them 
they  should  be  what  they  were. 

H  Hesper  had  been  a  boy  her  Nationalist  tendencies 
would  have  earned  her  a  sound  thrashing  at  the  hands 
of  her  father,  but  as  a  woman  she  came  under  a  differ- 
ent schedule.  Women  were  permitted  by  Hardress 
Sheridan  to  have  all  sorts  of  sentimental  notions.  In 
some  vague  way  Hardress  felt  that  you  couldn't  expect 
any  girl  to  be  entirely  sensible,  and  he  considered  it  in 
the  light  of  a  good  jest. 

"  You've  got  a  stag  in  your  head,  Hest,"  he  said 
with  his  cheer}'  laugh.  "  Poor  tenants,  is  it  ?  What 
about  m.e  and  the  mortgages?  " 

Hesper  had  ample  opportunity  for  studying  the  te- 
nacity of  prejudice,  and  her  own  lucid  sense  of  propor- 
tion taught  her  to  humour  it.  She  even  went  so  far 
as  to  be  constantly  and  inwardly  amused  and  enter- 

69 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

tained  by  the  attitude  of  the  class  to  which  she  be- 
longed, and  by  the  superlative  contempt  they  felt  for 
all  that  was  not  entirely  their  own.  They  made  her 
feel  their  disapproval,  because  of  her  unlikeness  to 
themselves,  and  they  condoned  her  as  far  as  they  could, 
because  she  was  her  father's  daughter  and  rode  well  to 
hounds. 

She  was  nineteen  when  Marcus  Janover  came  back 
to  Ireland,  before  leaving  once  more  for  the  Continent, 
this  time  to  visit  France  and  Italy.  He  had  done,  as 
was  expected,  brilliantly  and  well  at  Oxford,  and  was 
waiting  until  his  father  and  mother  came  back  from 
the  East  to  see  them  before  he  left  for  his  further  stage 
on  the  road  to  Diplomacy. 

Marcus  had  never  forgotten  his  first  visit  to  Ard- 
shane,  and  from  time  to  time  had  wished  to  revisit 
these  "  glimpses  of  the  Moon  "  and  to  return  to  the 
sweet  sad  lure  of  Ireland,  where  all  things  began  with 
bonfires  and  ended  with  a  fight,  where  people  mis- 
trusted one  another  so  astonishingly,  and  where  things 
that  happened  years  and  ages  ago  were  but  as  yester- 
day when  it  is  passed.  He  loved  Ardshane  and  the 
stables  and  the  sense  of  freedom  from  the  decrees  of 
time,  and  he  still  remembered  Hesper  and  the  flame- 
like tone  in  Hesper's  hair  when  she  stood  in  the  weak 
winter  sunlight  calling  to  him  not  to  hang  on  to  the 
curb  and  to  give  Flying  Maria  a  chance. 

And  so  Marcus  came  back  again  to  Ardshane  at 
the  age  of  twenty-one,  and  found  that  nothing  there 
had  altered,  with  the  exception  of  Hesper,  who  had 
grown  up  and  was  driving  a  golf  ball  with  unerring 
accuracy  and  precision  in  the  field  beyond  the  irregular 
white  railings  half-way  down  the  hill. 

70 


1 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

His  Uncle  Hardress  had  met  him  at  the  station 
the  first  time  he  arrived,  and  he  met  him  again  this 
time.  Hardress  had  cursed  the  groom,  forgetful  of 
his  nephew's  presence,  the  first  time ;  he  did  so  again 
as  though  his  life  repeated  itself  with  the  incredible 
fidelity  of  a  cinema  film,  and  he  laughed  at  nothing  in 
particular,  and  said  "  How  are  you,  Marcus,"  in  a  loud 
fine  voice,  just  as  he  had  done  seven  years  before,  until 
Alarcus  felt  as  though  he  was  vaguely  meshed  in  some 
strange  net  of  illusion  and  had  to  tell  himself  that  he 
was  not  merely  remembering  with  incredible  vividness 
a  flash  of  past  events. 

The  soft  green  light  of  the  evening  wrapped  the 
whole  country,  and  the  wide  rents  in  the  clouded  sky 
gleamed  like  silken  banners  flying  on  the  wind.  Be- 
yond the  acid  emerald  of  the  near  hill  the  mountains 
stood  purple  and  gloomy,  and  the  dark  fir  trees  that 
bordered  the  avenue  sighed  at  the  touch  of  the  rising 
wind  of  oncoming  night.  He  saw  Hesper  running 
over  the  lawn  accompanied  by  a  hound  puppy,  two  ter- 
riers, and  a  chow,  and  he  heard  her  answer  her  father's 
shout. 

For  just  one  moment  Marcus  felt  suddenly  shy. 
Nothing  else  had  changed,  but  he  knew  instinctively 
that  Hest  was  changed. 


71 


CHAPTER  VII 

O  Polly  love,  O  Polly,  the  rout  has  now  begun 

And  we  must  be  amarching  at  the  beating  of  the  drum. 

Go  dress  yourself  up  in  your  best  and  come  along  o'  me, 

I'll  take  you  to  the  cruel  wars  in  High  Ger-many. 

THE  schoolroom  piano  was  thready  and  had  spinal 
weaknesses  that  rang  and  tinkled,  but  Hesper's 
gay  voice  conquered  the  piano  and  filled  the  "  long- 
room."  as  it  was  called,  because  it  ran  the  whole  length 
of  the  house  and  had  been  designed  for  twenty  children 
to  play  in. 

Marcus  sat  in  the  window,  the  sill  was  high,  and  he 
sat  half  in  and  half  out,  watching  Hesper. 

"  Are  we  not  going  to  fight  Germany?  "  she  asked, 
raising  her  hands  and  letting  up  the  pedal  suddenly. 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  when  I  am  a 
Plenipotentiary.     Will  you  wait  till  then,  Hest?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  wait,"  Hesper  nodded.  **  I  wonder  if  I 
shall  ever  get  out  of  here?  You've  got  out  ever  since 
you  were  eight ;  just  think  of  it,  Marcus  —  you've  prac- 
tically never  been  an}i:hing  but  out."  She  screwed 
herself  round  on  the  piano  stool,  her  back  to  the  long 
room  half -engulfed  in  shadow,  the  light  from  the  fire 
catching  her  hair  and  turning  it  into  a  broken  aureole 
around  her  serious  face. 

"  What  would  you  take  to  be  a  girl  instead  of  being 
yourself?  " 

"  It  must  be  pretty  awful,"  Marcus  spoke  sym- 
pathetically.    "  But  being  Irish  ought  to  make  it  bet- 

72 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

ter.  You  can  be  so  many  things  in  Ireland,  somehow. 
You're  all  sorts  of  things,  Hest.  You  can  ride  trials, 
and  live  just  as  you  please,  and  you  are  always  close 
to  history,  in  a  way.  I  remember  when  I  was  here 
seven  years  ago  the  butler  was  shot  in  the  shoulder  be- 
cause he  stood  in  the  lighted  doorway  after  dark. 
Things  like  that  must  make  life  much  more  interest- 
ing." 

Heavy  battalions  of  black  rooks  were  crossing  the 
sky  towards  the  trees  of  the  park,  and  Marcus  slid 
down  on  to  the  floor  and  stood  looking  out.  He  was 
Hearing  the  end  of  his  stay  in  Ireland  and  he  felt  a  heart 
pang  at  the  thought  of  parting  with  Hesper. 

"  Yes,  but  no  one  shoots  now."  Hesper's  voice  held 
a  tinge  of  regret.  "  The  bad  times  are  over  and  we 
grow  prosperous.  I  dread  that  prosperity  will  make 
the  people  cease  to  fight,  and  when  we  cease  to  fight  we 
shall  lose  ourselves  and  grow  like  those  Northerners, 
or  the  Scotch,  or  the  English,  and  won't  be  Irish  any 
more." 

"  But  they'll  begin  all  over  again  and  fight  each 
other,"  said  Marcus  cheerfully.  "  Don't  you  worry- 
about  that,  Hest." 

She  clasped  her  hands  round  her  knees  and  bent 
forward  towards  the  fire. 

"  A  man  can  do  things  himself,  but  a  woman  can 
only  live  on  echoes.  There's  you,  Marcus,  and  your 
friend  Eitel,  and  the  whole  wide  world  just  asking  you 
to  come  and  do  things  in  it.  And  then  there's  me,  here 
in  Ardshane  with  Dad,  and  what  is  there  I  can  do  that 
matters?  I  help  Dad  with  the  racers,  I  run  the  gar- 
den, and  I  try  to  keep  a  few  inches  of  the  house  clean. 
I'm  worth  about  fifty  pounds  a  year  to  Dad,  and  I 

73 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

couldn't  earn  sixpence  if  I  found  I  had  to  try.  When 
Dad  dies  the  place  and  everything  goes  off  to  a  hun- 
dredth cousin,  because  he's  the  male  descendant  of  the 
next  male  heir.     Women  are  a  drug  in  the  market." 

Marcus  crossed  the  room  and  leaned  his  arm  on  the 
mantelshelf. 

"If  you  were  me,  Hest,  you  might  make  a  much 
better  thing  of  the  chance  I  have.  I  don't  know  how 
it  is,  but  there  are  times  when  I  feel  like  chucking  all 
my  father's  big  plan  and  enlisting.  The  very  idea  of 
going  into  the  Diplomatic  makes  me  wonder  at  my 
own  audacity.  It's  one  thing  to  do  well  at  Oxford, 
but  it's  quite  another  thing  to  try  and  shove  ahead  in 
a  career  like  that." 

Hesper  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  on  fire. 

"  That  is  an  apologetic  frame  of  mind  I  shouldn't 
have  expected  of  you,  Marcus.  You're  not  funking, 
are  you?  " 

Marcus  took  the  power  and  tapped  a  burning  log, 
sending  a  shower  of  sparks  up  the  chimney. 

"  Not  funking,"  he  said  slowly.     "  Not  quite  that." 

"  Then  you  are  wanting  me  to  tell  you  that  you  are 
a  young  David,  and  a  sling  and  a  stone  is  all  that  you 
require."  She  caught  her  breath.  "  Perhaps  it  is, 
Mark.  I  always  believed  that  Goliath  of  Gath  was 
really  only  a  big  swollen  bluffing  monster,  full  of  con- 
ventional brag,  and  David  was  simply  —  Youth  —  the 
New  Idea  —  the  rising  generation.  The  sling  and  the 
stone  were  a  charm  that  he  used,  and  if  you  have  the 
charm  it's  all  you  need." 

"  Eitel  would  tell  you  something  quite  different." 
Marcus  smiled  at  her  quick  enthusiasm. 

"  Eitel  and  Eitel  —  eternally  Eitel.     What  is  there 

74 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

about  Eitel  that  makes  him  so  attractive?  "  She  felt  a 
sudden  gust  of  jealousy  cross  her  mood. 

'•  He's  so  straight.  He  couldn't  do  one  set  of  things 
and  think  another,  the  way  —  well,  if  you  want  to 
know,  Hest,  the  way  I  believe  I  could.  He  goes  along 
without  ever  thinking  a  mean  thing  or  doing  a  rotten 
thing,  and  nothing,  no  earthly,  would  make  him.  I 
think  that  is  why  he  is  such  a  good  friend.'" 

Hesper  held  out  her  small  hands  to  the  blaze. 

"  He  sounds  like  a  Buddhist  who  has  entered  the 
fourth  stage,  and  is  nearing  the  blessedness  of  total 
extinction.  I  can't  imagine  anything  so  uninteresting. 
Now  you  — " 

She  stopped  dead  and  stared  at  the  fire. 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  this,  then.  You  will  go  tearing  on  and 
making  your  own  colossal  mistakes,  and  doing  bad 
things  on  a  big  scale  and  good  things  in  the  same 
way  —  you  could  be  ridiculously  good  and  disgrace- 
fully bad.  and  you  could  do  wrong  things,  but  not 
stupid  things,  Marcus.  You  just  couldn't  trundle 
along  like  Eitel  until  you  got  to  Heaven's  gates  and 
boomed  inside  wdthout  once  having  had  a  look  through 
the  grating  at  the  fires  below.  He  sounds  so  well  reg- 
ulated, like  a  really  expensive  clock ;  and  yet  you  make 
him  into  a  kind  of  hero." 

"  Perhaps  just  because  I'm  not  well  regulated,  and 
because  if  I  was  a  clock  I'd  be  a  bad  failure." 

He  tapped  the  logs  again  and  freed  another  flight  of 
sparks. 

"  I  always  feel  so  temporary,  Hest.  Eitel  seems  as 
though  he  couldn't  change,  he's  so  plumb  sure,  but  I'm 
only  temporary  —  bits  of  my  life  rented  by  the  month, 

75 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

as  it  were,  and  then  something  new.  I  suppose  I  shall 
grow  into  something  different " 

Hesper  regarded  him  long  and  thoughtfully,  her  eyes 
softening  to  sudden  tenderness.  She  had  the  level 
secret  of  balance  in  her  own  strong  young  nature,  and 
she  was  instinctively  aware  that  Marcus  had  been  left 
without  that  quality,  though  she  could  not  have  told  ex- 
actly what  it  was.  As  their  eyes  met  they  exchanged 
a  look  of  mutual  faith,  those  of  Marcus  full  of  knowl- 
edge, those  of  Hesper  clear  with  wise  judgment. 

"  It's  the  same  with  the  young  entry,"  she  said 
quickly.  "  Some  of  the  best  hounds  won't  stick  to 
the  hne;  they  just  go  off  like  mad  after  hares  or  rab- 
bits, but  they  settle  —  and  you'll  settle,  Marcus,  once 
the  hunting  begins  and  the  cubbing  is  done." 

"  I  can't  explain  — "  He  hesitated  and  turned  to 
the  fire  again.  "  Ever  since  I  began  to  think  I  have 
had  a  queer  faculty  for  understanding  people.  I've 
been  able  to  take  short  cuts.  I've  known  things,  com- 
mon things  and  things  that  are  quite  uncommon,  about 
those  I  meet.  It  helped  me  at  school  and  at  Oxford, 
and  though  I  often  don't  bother  about  it  or  try  to  use  it, 
it's  there,  Hest.  I  believe  I've  got  double  sight,  and 
just  as  I've  seen  men  who  could  find  where  water  was 
with  hazel  twigs,  I  can  slide  my  mind  in  behind  what 
fellows  say  about  themselves,  and  catch  them  at  all 
kinds  of  things.  Sometimes  it  is  simply  beastly,  and 
I'd  give  anything  not  to  know,  but  sometimes  it's  fine. 
You  wanted  to  know  why  I  talk  of  Eitel  the  way  I  do? 
It's  because  Eitel  is  absolutely  sound." 

"  I  understand."     She  spoke  hardly  above  a  whisper. 

"  I'm  quicker  than  he  is.  and  I  suppose  I've  got  more 
of  a  different  kind  of  cleverness,  but  he  has  got  everv- 

76 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

thing  else,  and  what  he  has  he  has  worked  for,  and  he 
never  thinks  about  himself.  There  is  nothing  in  Eitel 
that  isn't  white." 

Hesper's  outstretched  hands  still  sought  the  blaze. 

"  He'd  never  change  to  a  friend  or  go  back  on  a 
friend,  and  what  he  believes  he  believes  right  through. 
I'm  not  like  that,  Hest;  over  and  over  again  I've  got 
absolutely  indifferent  to  things  as  well  as  to  people  that 
I  have  cared  much  for.  I  fling  back  and  back  to  my- 
self, and  except  for  Eitel  I  haven't  cared  about  the 
friends  I  do  make." 

"  And  —  and "     Hesper's    voice    trembled    a 

little. 

"  You,  Schdne  Scclc,"  he  said  impetuously,  taking 
her  hands  in  his.     "  Hest,  you  are  simply  an  angel." 

\\'hen  IVIarcus  Janover  left  Ardshane  he  joined  his 
mother  and  father  in  London. 

Sir  Henry  was  greatly  altered,  and  his  work  in  the 
East  being  done,  no  further  demands  were  made  upon 
his  powers,  and  already  he  felt  the  inertia  of  his  life 
eat  into  it  like  a  canker.  They  had  gone  back  to  the 
house  in  Deanery  Street,  and  Lady  Janover,  with  the 
aid  of  a  beauty  specialist,  was  once  more  preparing  to 
embark  upon  any  new  adventure  that  might  offer, 
though  adventures  were  less  frequent  than  of  yore. 
She  dreaded  age  with  a  morbid  fear,  and  her  husband's 
indifference  to  what  she  did  wrought  upon  her  nerves 
and  disturbed  her  temper.  Her  beauty  was  in  its  de- 
cline, and  she  tried  feverishly  to  retain  her  vanishing 
youth.  The  long  bill  that  Lydia  Janover  had  run  up 
for  the  greater  part  of  her  life  demanded  payment,  and 
Lydia  Janover  hadn't  anything  left  wherewith  to  meet 

77 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  future.  In  the  end,  she  and  her  husband  were 
alone,  as  they  had  not  been  since  their  honeymoon,  and 
the  cynical  eyes  of  Sir  Henry  Janover  reminded  her 
silently  of  the  fact.  The  circle  brought  them  back  to 
the  starting-place  where  warfare  had  taken  the  place 
of  illusion. 

Marcus  slipped  into  his  place  in  the  household, 
haunted  by  his  detection  of  the  passions,  challenges, 
and  dramatic  forces  that  stormed  silently  through  his 
parents'  relations  with  one  another.  He  knew  quite 
well  what  his  father  had  suffered,  what  his  mother  was, 
and  he  knew  that,  like  Helen  of  Troy,  she  shivered  at 
the  bleak  air  of  the  changed  world  wherein  she  now 
found  herself. 

"  Chance  "  and  all  the  others  who  had  come  and  gone 
in  endless  succession  had  vanished  like  the  snows  of 
yester  year.  It  was  true  that  years  ago  a  man  had 
actually  been  weak-minded  enough  to  shoot  himself  all 
for  love  of  Lydia,  but  if  he  had  not  shot  himself  and 
left  this  gory  feather  for  her  cap,  he  too  would  have 
slipped  away  after  the  one  dance  too  many,  the  one 
"  kiss  too  long."  and  ceased  to  come  and  ceased  to 
write.  As  years  overtook  her,  Lydia  became  more 
grasping  and  fought  deadly  and  desperate  battles  to 
keep  her  lovers  when  they  struggled  for  freedom,  with 
the  inevitable  result  that  they  had  taken  what  she  de- 
clined to  give.  She  had  so  frequently  written  the  lines, 
to  different  recipients,  "  For  your  sake  I  have  lost  my 
husband's  love,  for  your  sake  my  name  became  a  by- 
word." that  it  was  only  surprising  that  she  so  deter- 
minedly refused  to  permit  life  to  teach  her  anything. 
The  lassitude  of  realization  never  discouraged  her.  and 
she  still  sought  and  sought  eternally  for  the  intoxica- 

78 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

tion  of  success  in  the  oncoming  greyness  of  life.  Oc- 
cupied only  with  herself,  she  felt  nothing  towards  her 
husband  but  dislike,  and  towards  her  son  a  sensation  of 
smouldering  animosity  because  of  his  eyes  and  the 
proud  patient  line  of  his  mouth.  Lydia  was  pro- 
foundly jaded,  though  she  was  unaware  of  the  fact, 
and  her  son  felt  pity  for  her,  a  far  deeper  pity  than 
he  felt  for  his  father.  If  she  had  been  a  little  higher 
in  the  mental  scale  she  would  have  suffered  miserably, 
but  being  where  she  was.  she  only  lost  her  temper  and 
complained  of  the  climate ;  and  whenever  *'  one  of 
them  "  married,  and  his  marriage  appeared  in  the 
Times,  she  became  subject  to  fits  of  anger  against  her 
maid  that  lost  her  two  of  the  best  she  had  succeeded  in 
obtaining,  and  so  reacted  upon  her  own  head  in  more 
senses  than  one. 

Henry  Janover  never  mentioned  his  wife's  name  to 
his  son  if  it  were  possible  to  avoid  it.  He  lived  away 
from  the  here  and  now,  and  the  measure  of  his  almost 
passionate  coldness  was  beyond  computation.  Lydia 
had  done  all  that  it  lay  in  her  to  do,  years  before,  and 
he  left  it  at  that. 

It  was  just  before  Marcus  left  for  Paris  that  Billy 
Waring  came  out  of  the  East,  and  from  long  associa- 
tion once  more  sought  Lydia  Janover.  Billy  was  no 
longer  a  smart-looking  young  man ;  he  was  an  over- 
smart  middle-aged  man,  with  a  rough  red  skin  and  a 
liquid  eye.  His  style  had  become  a  shade,  more  pro- 
nounced, and  having  no  home  ties  to  fill  his  time,  he 
returned,  an  elderly  prodigal,  to  "  Lady  J.,"  as  he  called 
her  when  discussing  her  with  acquaintances.  His  ad- 
vent brought  peace  to  the  house  in  Deanery  Street,  and 
though  Billy  Waring  was  an  unlikely  dove,  the  gift  of 

79 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  olive  branch  was  none  the  less  acceptable  to  Lydia's 
husband. 

Only  once  Henry  Janover  spoke  to  his  son  on  the 
subject  of  women. 

"  Keep  women  out  of  your  life.  They  ruin  and  de- 
stroy. Don't  let  any  woman  have  it  in  her  power  to 
break  you."  He  paced  the  room  as  he  talked.  "  I've 
watched  their  work  and  I  kniow  the  danger.  They  tie 
you  up  in  some  damned  memory  of  scent  or  song. 
Do  you  suppose  Herod  ever  forgot  the  tune  Herodias's 
daughter  danced  to?  And  later  on  you  learn  that  it's 
all  pretence  and  sham  and  lies." 

"  But  all  women  aren't "  began  Marcus. 

Henry  Janover  stood  and  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  H  you  let  the  best  of  them  in  on  your  life  she'll 
tangle  it  for  you.     Do  without  them,  Marcus,  or  if  you 

must "     He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned 

away.  What  was  the  use  of  admonitions?  He  could 
not  re-live  his  own  youth  or  recall  one  dim  recollection 
of  his  one-time  thrills  and  madnesses.  To  him  it  was 
all  utterly  trivial,  utterly  worthless,  a  mere  phase  that 
ended  in  disillusion.  Experience  had  robbed  life  of  its 
mystery,  and  yet  he  understood  that  Marcus  must  still 
be  at  the  mercy  of  the  pains  and  troubles  consequent 
upon  his  very  youth  and  hopefulness.  A  sudden  gift 
of  vision  came  to  him,  and  Henry  Janover  wondered 
how  much  of  his  bitterness  he  owed  to  his  wife.  She 
had  taken  from  him  even  when  he  shut  her  out :  she 
still  took  from  him  and  made  him  witness  to  her 
worthlessness,  she  and  Waring,  two  civilized  savages. 
He  flung  the  thought  of  them  away. 

"  Life  comes  to  evers^body  differently,  and  each  man 
has  his  own  danger.     The  point  is  to  know  your  dan- 

80 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 


'& 


ger,  and  a  knife  is  a  good  weapon.  I'm  not  much  of 
a  theologian,  Marcus,  but  I  understand  the  value  of  a 
principle  that  advocates  amputation  when  your  hand 
offends  you.  Don't  funk  cutting  if  your  judgment 
tells  you  to  cut  deep.'' 

"  I  think  I  should  cut  if  it  became  necessary." 

His  father  nodded  silently;  he  was  satisfied. 

"  Women  —  you  will  have  to  understand  them  your 
own  way ;  there  are  other  shrines  and  temples  where  a 
man  may  waste  himself;  other  pitfalls.  If  I  could  do 
so  I  would  warn  you  to  guard  your  impersonality  as 
you  would  guard  your  honour.  Once  you  let  that  go 
you  let  your  judgment  go." 

Janover  met  the  masterful  eyes  that  watched  him, 
listening, 

"  You  will  have  to  give  every  inch  of  yourself  to 
your  career.  Play  when  you  must,  and  learn  what 
you  have  to  about  women  and  men  as  decently  as  you 
can ;  but  when  a  name  begins  to  mean  too  much  to  you, 
forsake  the  bearer  of  that  name."  His  voice  softened 
very  slightly.  "  At  best  life  has  to  be  lonely,  Marcus, 
and  I  can  assure  you  that  there  can  be  and  are  condi- 
tions, beside  which  great  loneliness  is  blessed.  It  may 
bring  hardness,  and  it  must  bring  isolation,  to  stand 
away  from  the  ruck,  but  it  has  its  compensations," 

"  I  think  I  understand  you.  Father." 

"  For  the  men  who  are  content  with  little,  and  there 
are  plenty  of  them  —  the  world  is  crowded  with  them 
—  there  are  music  halls  and  night  clubs,  gambling  hells 
and  race  courses,  but  you  are  going  to  make  a  different 
record,  and  to  make  it  you  must  be  tireless,  determined, 
and  hard.  For  you  there  must  be  no  price.  You  can- 
not afford  the  weakness  of  friendship  —  God  knows, 

8i 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Marcus,  I  must  sound  cynical  enough  to  you,  but  put- 
ting aside  ambition  and  the  hope  I  have  in  your  future, 
I  think  I  should  say  the  same." 

Marcus  sat  very  still;  his  thoughts  were  busy  with 
his  father's  words.  Something  of  all  this  he  had  felt 
long  before,  and  felt  it  with  the  acute  realization  of  a 
fundamental  truth. 

"  Individual  friendships  or  hates  have  in  the  main 
little  to  say  to  the  control  or  actions  of  Nations."  His 
father  was  now  sitting  in  his  chair  by  the  big  writing- 
table.  "  These  questions  are  in  some  way  beyond  our 
power  to  comprehend  entirely,  but  always  remember 
that  with  Nations  as  with  individuals  it  is  Will  that  is 
the  foundation  of  strength.  Will  begins  in  character, 
and  character  is  the  sole  possession  of  the  individual, 
so  you  get  back  to  the  secret  source  that  makes  conquer- 
ors." He  moved  the  small  objects  under  his  hand  un- 
consciously and  followed  out  his  own  thought.  "  I 
sent  you  to  Germany  to  learn,  because  Germany  pro- 
duces men  who  dare  to  think  —  and  you  have  been 
trained  to  think.  Your  own  capacity  for  understand- 
ing life  will  tell  you  what  I  have  had  to  learn  more 
slowly  — "  He  paused  for  a  moment  and  bent  for- 
ward, speaking  with  tense  quiet  force.  "  I  have  taken 
my  place  in  the  game  against  the  Asiatic,  where  craft 
must  be  met  by  a  sterner  craft,  and  I  know  the  value 
of  the  power  to  make  men  fear.  Once  other  men,  your 
own  fellows,  understand  you,  they  cease  to  fear  you. 
If  you  live  too  close  to  the  lives  of  others  they  absorb 
your  potentiality."  He  thought  again  for  a  moment 
and  continued,  speaking  with  no  lessening  of  emphasis : 
*'  Remember  to  dare  greatly  when  the  need  comes,  leav- 
ing out  heroics.     The  wav  of  emotion  and  imagination 

'82 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

may  never  be  yours,  Marcus.  I  want  you  to  determine 
from  the  outset  to  banish  all  phantoms." 

Marcus  lifted  up  his  face,  which  had  been  bowed 
while  his  father  spoke. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  thrilled  as  it 
had  thrilled  when  he  spoke  on  the  little  dais  at  his  old 
school. 


83 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THREE  years  with  Paris  for  headquarters  brought 
Marcus  Janover  to  the  time  when  his  actual  life 
work  was  to  begin. 

Paris  neither  made  nor  marred  him,  but  to  his  years 
there  he  owed  a  fuller  power  of  thought  and  feeling. 
The  pays  ami  accepted  him  gladly,  and  Marcus  acquired 
an  entirely  sophisticated  way,  an  air  of  being  part  and 
parcel  of  cosmopolitan  society. 

He  grew  to  know  the  French  way  of  life  strangely 
well,  and  though  he  regarded  it  as  a  phase,  he  enjoyed 
his  hour  of  play,  while  his  experiences  amused  him. 
He  chose  to  live  on  the  surface,  and  his  dreams  con- 
tinued undisturbed  while  he  drifted  through  the  life  of 
Paris.  With  it  all,  his  ideas  were  hardly  touched. 
He  enjoyed  the  life  of  the  streets  and  the  cafe's.  The 
tired-eye  wearers  of  splendid  jewels  interested  him. 
He  also  made  the  acquaintance  of  those  failures  who 
had  no  splendid  jewels,  and  he  divined  their  souls.  He 
fathomed  the  melancholy  in  the  life  of  "  daughters  of 
joy,"  watching  for  any  real  buoyant  happiness  in  that 
land  outside  the  conventions.  The  conventions  always 
conquered,  and  those  who  challenged  them  to  a  free 
fight  came  out  of  it  haggard  and  wan  long  before  the 
hour  for  age  had  struck. 

Marcus  had  no  illusions  connected  with  these  years, 
he  was  only  learning  and  he  had  not  yet  entered  his  own 
domain  of  life.  He  was  there  to  learn  the  French  lan- 
guage thoroughly,  and  remained  there  as  attache,  but 

84 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

he  collected  no  memories  to  spring  upon  him  in  later 
twilights,  and  his  heart  was  away  in  green  Ireland  safe 
in  the  keeping  of  Hesper  Sheridan. 

One  evening  after  he  had  become  attache  at  the 
British  Embassy  he  wandered  into  Pastini's  Restaurant 
with  an  idea  of  dining  there  alone. 

He  chose  the  little  cafe  hidden  away  in  a  quiet  street 
with  a  great  desire  to  be  by  himself.  The  night  was 
warm  and  the  lamps  under  the  trees  of  the  Boulevard 
lighted  the  passing  faces  of  the  shifting  crowd  who 
swarmed  outside  under  the  May  moon.  He  stood  be- 
neath the  orange  trees  set  in  green  tubs  at  the  entrance 
and  w^atched  the  passersby,  and  he  felt  the  pulse  of  life 
beating  feverishly.  All  the  people  who  w-ent  up  and 
down  were  talking  of  things,  all  that  you  could  touch 
and  hold,  eat,  drink,  smoke,  or  clasp ;  talking  of  what 
they  had  done  or  what-they  intended  to  do. 

A  mood  of  distaste  for  Paris  was  upon  him,  and 
he  felt  that  he  needed  Hesper.  He  wanted  her  there 
with  him,  and  then  he  too  would  have  been  satisfied  to 
walk  and  talk  like  the  rest,  but  no  other  woman  could 
give  him  more  than  a  passing  feeling  of  interest.  To 
be  free  to  enjoy  the  lures  of  rag  fair  or  of  the  more 
select  altitudes  where  love  was  talked  of  and  played 
with,  he  would  have  had  to  forswear  his  faith,  and  he 
felt  that  for  such  a  price  tinsel  was  prohibitively  dear. 
Nothing  he  had  done  in  the  interval  between  the  times 
when  he  had  returned  to  Ireland  and  seen  Hesper  again 
had  ever  lessened  her  power,  rather  had  it  increased. 
She  supphed  a  thousand  half-unconscious  needs  in  his 
life,  and  the  women  whom  he  had  copie  close  to  served 
only  to  make  him  more  appreciative  of  her  rare  attrac- 
tion.    He  would  have  said  himself  that  his  fidelitv  was 

8q 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

more  a  matter  of  necessity  than  choice,  more  a  matter 
of  destiny  than  selection.  He  loved  her,  and  his  love 
of  her  ruled  him,  even  when  he  drifted. 

He  turned  into  Pastini's  and  found  a  table  in  a  far 
corner,  and  the  sombre  quiet  of  the  place  pleased  him. 
He  had  escaped  from  a  string  band  for  one  thing,  and 
from  young  artists  with  goat  beards  and  flowing  ties, 
from  the  smart  soulless-looking  men  and  women  who 
monotonously  frequented  more  fashionable  resorts, 
and  from  American  sightseers.  Pastini's  was  expen- 
sive and  exclusive.  It  had  a  solemn  dignity  all  its 
own,  and  only  rarely  the  lighter  element  penetrated 
there.  The  eternal  appeal  to  the  senses  was  not  evi- 
dent, and  the  Saturnalia  mixed  on  other  floors  to  the 
sugar-sweet  sounds  of  waltzes  or  rioting  dances.  Mar- 
cus having  once  discovered  Pastini's,  retired  there  as  a 
good  Catholic  might  retire  to  Mount  Mellary  to  con- 
template silently.  His  friends  merely  considered  him 
peculiar.  Pastini's  was  chic  in  a  highly  respectable 
sense,  and  Marcus  had  said  that  "  Bacchanals  were 
best  on  Greek  cases  " ;  but  then  Marcus  was  incompre- 
hensible in  many  respects.  He  was  no  Puritan,  and  he 
was  given  to  a  freedom  of  speech  that  at  times  amazed 
his  hearers;  he  fell  in  with  the  life  of  pleasure  and  fell 
out  with  it,  but  he  never  risked  his  soul  for  a  single 
hour,  for  he  broke  from  it  always  to  return  to  his  long- 
ing for  reality  and  action.  When  he  discovered  finally 
that  women  bored  him,  he  was  glad  that  he  had  made 
certain  that  it  was  the  case.  He  argued  that  if  St. 
Anthony  had  possessed  the  courage  to  parley  with  his 
lady  visitors,  his  evening  would  hardly  have  earned  him 
a  canonisation. 

As  he  ordered  his  dinner  and   sat  waiting  till   it 

86 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 


'b 


should  be  brought,  he  wondered  how  many  of  his 
circle  of  so-called  friends  were  really  friends  at  all. 
Words  lost  their  meaning  in  a  soft  greedy  world  where 
no  one  had  the  least  intention  of  practising  the  smallest 
self-denial,  and  where  the  men  who  described  them- 
selves as  friends  to  each  other,  and  lovers  of  the  women 
they  delighted  to  honour,  had  no  comprehension  of  the 
conditions  or  the  standards  set  by  the  terms  they  used. 

He  was  early  at  Pastini's,  and  the  long,  comfortable 
room  was  empty  save  for  two  politicians  who  were 
dining  together  and  who  hardly  spoke,  but,  as  he 
sat  thinking,  the  curtains  that  hung  over  the  entrance 
swayed  and  parted,  and  General  Hyppolite  de  I'lsle 
came  in,  accompanied  by  a  dark-haired  woman  with 
flashing  eyes  and  teeth,  whose  walk  was  a  whole  his- 
tory of  graceful  suggestiveness.  She  was  quietly 
dressed  and  wore  a  hat,  but  if  she  had  been  attired  as 
a  nun  it  would  have  done  nothing  whatever  to  alter 
the  unmistakable  invitation  of  her  personality. 

De  risle  was  of  an  age  which  Marcus  decided  should 
have  taught  him  more  than  he  had  learned,  for  he  was 
deeply  in  love.  His  face  was  fresh  and  high  coloured, 
and  his  small  moustache  twisted  tightly  at  the  ends. 
His  reputation  gave  him  credit  for  being  a  good  soldier 
with  a  special  taste  in  women,  and  his  manner  to  his 
companion  was  deferential  and  polite. 

When  he  had  time  to  recognize  Marcus  he  smiled 
and  signed  to  him  to  join  them,  and  the  woman  with 
him  also  smiled.  She  looked  as  lithe  as  a  cat  and  every 
bit  as  feline,  and  her  ever-recurring  glance  irritated 
Marcus  Janover. 

He  declined  politely  to  make  a  third  at  their  table, 
and  took  the  opportunity  to  change  his  own  seat  and 

87 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

placed  himself  with  his  back  to  De  I'lsle's  table. 
Alone,  De  Tlsle  would  have  been  an  interesting  com- 
panion, but  with  this  cat-like  familiar  at  his  elbow  he 
would  be  unendurable. 

Marcus  knew  she  was  discussing  him,  he  knew  she 
was  saying  just  the  things  that  should  never  be  said, 
and  De  I'lsle  was  being  forced  to  outdo  her,  for  he 
had  a  reputation  for  violence  in  words. 

In  his  desire  to  escape  from  thought  of  the  woman 
to  whom  De  I'lsle  had  alluded  briefly  as  "  Ursule," 
Marcus  took  from  his  pocket  the  last  letter  he  had  re- 
ceived from  Hesper,  and  began  to  read  it. 

"  Here,  one  day  telleth  another,"  she  wrote,  "  and  I  am 
looking  forward  like  Frederick  the  Great  to  becoming  "  old, 
cheerful,  gouty,  and  good  humoured '  without  ever  advancing 
beyond  the  limits  of  Patrick  Street  and  the  Grand  Parade. 
And  you  are  having  intermittent  fever,  Mark,  don't  trouble 
to  deny  it.  If  I  were  you  I  should  catch  every  kind  of  fever 
and  have  no  respite.  What  is  the  use  of  having  a  Map  in 
my  room  ?  I  read  the  names  —  the  wonderful  names  — 
Petersburg,  Rome,  Athens,  Milan,  Singapore,  Mandalay, 
Bagdad,  and  I  take  a  market  ticket  to  Glanmire  station. 
Oh,  my  dear,  it  is  so  long  since  I  saw  you,  are  you  still  at 
all  wild?  You  were  getting  ominously  smooth  last  time. 
When  I  say  '  wild,'  I  mean  the  Byronic  wildness,  '  Yet.  Free- 
dom !  yet  thy  banner,  torn,  but  flying.'  What  Moyle  County 
calls  '  wild  '  is  quite  a  different  thing,  and  I  must  suppose 
that  Paris  has  other  standards.  For  instance,  if  you  hear 
that  any  one  has  gone  from  Moyle  to  Paris  (called  Parec) 
it  is  the  correct  thing  either  to  look  fearfully  knowing  and 
amused,  or  to  think  it  wildly  improper.  If  you  told  them 
in  Paris  that  you  were  going  to  Moyle  I  suppose  they  would 
regard  it  in  the  light  of  a  voyage  to  the  Austral  Pole. 

"  Don't  become  a  Frenchman,  Mark.  You  are  half  Irish, 
which,  of  course,  isn't  as  good  as  being  whole  Irish,  but  it  is 
something  to  be  glad  about  when  you  feel  dull,  and  don't 

88 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

become  German  either  —  which  reminds  me  of  your  friend 
Eitel.  Where  is  Eitel?  You  haven't  put  him  into  the  rag 
bag  of  lost  illusions  and  forgotten  gods?  Last  time  I  saw 
you,  you  had  grown  such  a  lot  of  young  cynicism,  quite  a 
full  set;  whiskers  and  a  beard.  Shave  it  all  off  and  come 
back  to  us.  Mark,  how  I  think  of  you.  Love  is  such  a  big 
thing  and  it  takes  every  day  and  hour  of  life  and  writes  one 
name  across  them  all.  It  takes  one's  little  old  pleasures  and 
tosses  them  away  over  the  hills  to  nowhere,  it  takes  one's 
sleep  and  one's  waking  and  says  '  all  this  is  mine,'  and  it 
takes  the  trees  and  the  fields  and  the  sunlight  and  the  stars  — 
and  sometimes  I  am  cold  with  fear  in  case  anything  should 
happen  to  me  or  to  you,  and  Love  puts  memory  marks  every- 
where." 

He  folded  up  the  sheets  carefully  and  replaced  them 
in  his  pocket.  The  woman  with  De  ITsle  laughed  a 
soft  wicked  laugh,  and,  without  turning,  Marcus  was 
aware  that  she  had  taken  out  her  pocket  handkerchief, 
and  a  waft  of  scent  came  about  him  like  bees.  She 
seemed  determined  to  intrude  herself  upon  his 
thoughts,  and  he  moved  again  as  the  gargon  brought  his 
dinner,  for  he  decided  that  he  preferred  to  face  her. 

He  seated  himself  in  the  chair  he  had  first  selected 
when  he  came  into  Pastini's,  and  was  again  able  to 
see  the  whole  restaurant.  He  noticed  another  arrival. 
A  young  man  in  a  dark  morning  suit  was  sitting  in  a 
dim  comer  looking  very  lonely  and  isolated,  and  at  the 
sight  of  him  Marcus  sprang  to  his  feet  and  went  swiftly 
down  the  room. 

"  Mon  Dieu  et  mon  Roi!  it's  Eitel " ;  he  held  out 
his  hand,  and  Eitel  stood  up,  his  face  flushing  with 
pleasure  and  surprise. 

"  This  is  amazing,"  went  on  Marcus,  "  come  and  sit 
at  my  table." 

89 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Eitel  had  grown  into  a  man  since  Marcus  had  seen 
him,  but  his  face  had  changed,  and  he  had  altered  far 
less  than  Janover. 

They  sat  down  together,  and  Eitel  studied  his  friend 
with  a  long  affectionate  look,  wondering  a  little  at  the 
weariness  of  Mark  Janover's  attractive  eyes.  He  ex- 
plained that  he  had  been  sent  to  Paris  to  learn  French, 
and  was  living  at  a  pension  kept  by  a  lady  of  title,  who 
used  the  bath  for  storing  potatoes  and  cabbages,  and 
they  laughed  as  he  recounted  his  experiences.  One  by 
one  they  took  out  the  old  days  from  the  hoard  of  mem- 
ories, and,  with  a  gust  of  his  boyish  laughter,  Eitel  re- 
minded Marcus  that  he  was  coming  to  take  the  Schone 
Base  away  from  the  Irish  Castle  and  carry  her  off  to 
(Waldenburg.  "  She  spoke  of  you  in  her  letter,"  said 
Marcus,  rising,  as  they  had  finished  their  meal. 
"  Come  round  to  my  rooms,  Eitel,  and  you  shall  see 
her  last  photograph.'' 

Eitel  agreed  gladly.  Time  was  of  no  importance 
to  him,  as  his  titled  lady  never  expected  him  in  at 
any  conventional  hour. 

As  they  passed  the  table  where  De  ITsle  still  lin- 
gered, his  eyes  hot  with  excitement  and  his  manner 
fatuously  loving,  Ursule  laughed  as  she  had  before, 
with  the  same  soft  wicked  laugh. 

"  That  woman's  laugh  makes  me  want  to  burn 
Paris,"  Marcus  said  angrily. 

The  streets  were  full  of  life,  and  the  effect  of  dark 
towering  houses  under  the  sky,  of  light  diffused  up- 
wards and  lost  on  the  way,  made  the  individual  appear 
smaller  in  the  illumination  of  his  own  making  than  in 
the  strongest  sunlight.  Night  in  the  open  has  its  own 
loneliness,  but  night  in  the  streets  of  a  great  city,  where 

90 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  faces  are  the  faces  of  strangers,  creates  an  effect 
of  isolation  with  which  no  other  lonehness  can  com- 
pare. Here  and  there  a  woman  or  a  man  walk  or  use 
a  gesture  that  is  familiar,  but  on  nearer  approach  the 
likeness  is  lost  and  the  aggravated  sense  of  solitude  be- 
comes even  greater.  One  must  be  strongly  enamoured 
of  humanity  to  walk  in  a  crowd  of  strangers  and  feel 
that  the  whole  world  is  kin. 

Marcus  had  not  yet  learnt  the  French  way  of  talking 
in  the  street  as  though  he  were  in  a  room,  and  he  hardly 
spoke  until  they  had  climbed  the  stair  to  his  apartment 
and  he  had  turned  on  the  lights  and  pulled  up  a  chair 
for  Eitel.  Eitel  watched  him  again  as  he  got  out  some 
glasses  and  a  decanter.  There  was  a  grace  of  move- 
ment about  ^Marcus  Janover  that  made  his  smallest  acts 
pleasant  to  watch.  Under  his  smooth  bronze  hair  his 
face  was  pale,  and  his  mobility  of  expression  was 
greater  than  it  had  been  in  his  school-days.  He  sought 
in  his  mind  for  a  word  that  could  express  his  friend's 
dominant  characteristic,  and  at  last  he  decided  that 
Marcus  Janover  was  "  irresistible." 

"  Do  you  still  analyse?  "  he  asked.  "  Or  is  the  time 
drama  sufficient?  I  have  often  thought  of  you,  jMark, 
since  we  parted." 

"  Oh,  I  just  live,"  said  Marcus,  smiling.  "  It's 
amusing  enough.  Only  amusing,  you  understand, 
Eitel.  It's  not  killing  or  thrilling  or  —  anything  but 
amusing.     Life  here  is  pleasant." 

"  We  live  differently."  Eitel  lighted  his  cigar.  "  I 
am  a  soldier  now,  Mark,  and  German  soldiers  are 
taught  Weltmacht  oder  Niedergang." 

"  World  power?  That  is  a  big  bid,  and  the  world 
takes  a  heap  of  owning,  if  you  mean  that  Germany; 

91 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

won't  be  content  with  less  than  every  inch  of  the  globe. 
I'm  not  sure  it's  worth  all  the  talk  that  is  made  about 
it,  this  same  ownership  of  the  globe  and  the  seas  and 
all.  It  is  about  on  all  fours  with  the  idea  of  having  a 
huge  family.  Damned  expensive ;  and  some  are  sure 
to  be  ugly  devils  and  others  want  all  your  money,  and 
others  take  all  the  army,  and  others  call  you  a  dodder- 
ing old  fool  to  your  face.  England,  Mother  England, 
could  do  with  a  smaller  nursery  if  it  wasn't  for  the 
family  ties;  I  swear  she  could." 

"  You  have  the  past,"  Von  Verlhof  spoke  almost 
sadly,  "  such  a  glorious  past  —  but  it  is  useless  to  look 
back.  It  is  not  the  owners  of  the  past  but  of  the  future 
who  are  to  count  in  the  new  reckoning." 

Marcus  Janover  laughed,  and  swinging  his  legs  over 
the  arm  of  his  chair  burst  into  a  mood  of  gaiety. 
''  Mein  Gott  und  mein  Gott,  Eitel,  I  know  those  senti- 
ments. Conrad,  Barbarossa,  Otto  Friedrich,  Hilde- 
brant,  Bemhard  bf  Saxe  Weimar.  Cock-a-doodle-do ! 
Blessed  are  the  butchers  for  they  shall  enter  into  Paris 
and  London.  Mother  England  w-ill  sit  there  until  you 
are  sick  of  Blood  and  Iron.  She  had  heard  Napoleon 
talk  just  as  Berlin  talks  today.  Napoleon  who  made 
your  conscripts  march  under  his  flag.  Mother  Eng- 
land won't  even  wake  to  the  fact  that  you  are  thrusting 
her  with  a  knife  until  you  have  slaughtered  half  the 
nursery,  but,  once  she  does,  she  wall  put  on  her  elastic- 
sided  boots  and  kick  hard,  for  she  can  get  very  cross." 

Marcus  pulled  a  cushion  behind  his  head.  "  War 
with  Germany  is  an  academic  problem ;  the  Staff  every- 
where has  to  have  one  to  exercise  their  brains.  You 
teach  your  fellows  how  to  land  on  the  East  Coast,  and 
we  teach  ours  how  to  burst  through  above  Metz." 

92 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  What  do  you  know  of  war,  Mark?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Marcus  amicably,  "  That  is  why 
T  can  give  an  unbiased  opinion.  I  am  out  to  under- 
stand people,  not  theories  that  only  fit  exceptional  con- 
ditions. If  I  could  sit  here  and  tell  you  that  I  under- 
stood w^ar  —  well,  I  should  be  able  to  make  your  heart 
turn  to  water  and  your  soul  turn  sick,  if  I  could  extend 
my  comprehension  as  far  as  you,  and  make  you  under- 
stand. You  talk  of  war,  mein  lieher,  but  you  do  not 
understand  it;  if  you  did  you  would  say  nothing 
further  about  your  IVeltniacht.  I  could  make  you  a 
sermon  on  your  own  text.  For  what  shall  it  profit  a 
Kaiser  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  —  my  God, 
not  his  individual  soul,  for  that  wouldn't  matter,  but 
the  many  million  souls  that  make  armies." 

"  War  is  the  finest  training  there  is,"  said  Eitel  stub- 
bornly. 

"  And  for  what  ?  To  break  the  average  man  in 
gently  for  a  better  appreciation  of  Hell?  Don't  let  us 
talk  of  it.  I'm  still  cursed  with  that  infernal  imagina- 
tion of  mine,  and  words  have  a  power  to  call  up  sights 
and  sounds  to  me.  Himmel!  Eitel,  I'd  rather  talk 
about  women." 

"Ah,"  Eitel  smiled,  "and  die  Damen,  Mark? 
What  thoughts  do  they  evoke  in  that  red-hot  head  of 
yours?  " 

"  I  have  dined  and  danced  and  fooled  with  them. 
I  have  made  a  little  love  to  them,  not  meaning  it, 
and,"  his  expression  grew  dreamy.  "  I  can  lie  to  them 
even  better  than  they  can  lie  to  me  —  but  for  the  most 
part  I  do  not  think  of  them  at  all  —  unless  you  count 
Hesper." 


93 


CHAPTER  IX 

EITEL  had  ample  opportunity  for  studying  Marcus 
from  several  points  of  view  during  their  months 
together  in  Paris.  Marcus  was  not  an  ordinary  young 
man,  any  more  than  he  had  been  an  ordinary  boy.  He 
did  not  look  ordinary,  and  he  complained  to  his  friend 
that  it  was  a  great  drawback  in  life  to  be  just  a  little 
different  from  the  rest.  "  H  you  have  the  approved 
solidity  that  is  expected  of  an  Englishman  abroad,  it 
makes  everything  quite  simple,  but  if  you  are  not  ex- 
actly what  you  are  expected  to  be  then  you  have  to  in- 
crease by  dulness  what  you  lose  in  the  general  effect. 
I  don't  look  dependable,  and  I  don't  talk  slowly,"  he 
explained. 

No  woman  ever  really  believed  that  Mark  Janover 
was  dull,  even  when  he  propped  the  wall  in  a  state  of 
utter  boredom  in  the  great  guest  chamber  at  the  Em- 
bassy. He  might  have  walked  out  of  classical  lands,  or 
sheer  and  direct  from  the  fifteenth  century,  and  he 
courted  his  ideal  attitude  of  reliability  on  these  occa- 
sions with  a  steady  determination  not  to  be  surprised 
into  enthusiasm.  There  was  another  Marcus  who  ap- 
peared usually  late  in  the  night  at  less  select  rendez- 
vous, coming  in  like  a  tempest  and  departing  like  a 
storm.  He  was  exotically  French  in  these  moods,  and 
if  he  inwardly  despised  his  company,  he  played  at  their 
game  with  a  spirit  of  active  liveliness  that  made  him 
vociferously  welcome  when  he  chose  to  make  his  ap- 
pearance. 

94 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

And,  again,  there  was  still  another  Marcus  who  took 
no  colour  from  the  blending  of  atmosphere  that  sur- 
rounded him,  and  who  stood  out  like  a  blazing  house, 
burning  at  night  upon  a  hill,  fierce,  intelligent,  and  de- 
liberate. But  in  each  incarnation  he  was  always  the 
man  Eitel  loved  above  all  the  men  or  women  he  had 
ever  met  or  known. 

In  June  Marcus  told  Von  Verlhof  that  his  days  in 
Paris  were  likely  to  be  short,  as  he  expected  a  move. 
Any  form  of  going  was  acceptable  to  him,  and  he  felt 
he  had  been  long  enough  where  he  was.  He  and  Eitel 
had  gone  for  a  week  to  Wimereux,  and  they  sat  under 
a  striped  awning  on  the  sand,  looking  out  to  the  sea. 

"  Blue  and  yellow  and  white,"  said  Marcus,  tilting  his 
Panama  over  his  eyes.  "  How  a  French  watering- 
place  stares  and  stares  at  one.,  There  is  no  shyness  in 
its  psychology.  Audacity  is  pleasing  in  some  people, 
but  in  places  it  offends  me.  Now  in  Ireland  — "  a 
sudden  idea  struck  him  and  his  eyes  lighted  with  pleas- 
ure. "  Eitel,  you  shall  come  with  me  to  Ireland  when 
I  leave  next  week.  Yes,  you  shall,  by  George,  and  you 
can  add  a  brogue  to  your  other  linguistic  accomplish- 
ments." 

"  I  could  be  away  a  fortnight  longer,"  said  Eitel. 
"  It  would  be  a  real  pleasure,  Mark." 

"  Ireland  is  supreme  in  one  respect.  More  lies  are 
fabricated  about  her  than  any  other  country  under 
Heaven.  When  women  or  countries  are  worth  lying 
about  you  may  at  once  conclude  they  are  magnetic. 
Amiable  men  with  wives  and  families  lose  their  sense 
of  proportion,  and  shake  their  fists  when  they  talk  of 
Ireland."  He  laughed  reminiscently.  "  But  taking  us 
all  round,  we  Irish  aren't  satisfactory.     We  lack  Brit- 

95 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

ish  emotion,  and  there  is  that  damned  dramatic  instinct 
in  our  composition  which  is  so  puzzHng  to  the  ordinary 
observer." 

"  And  which  is  out  of  place  in  the  British  metrical 
system?  What  does  it  matter,  Mark?  I  shall  cross 
the  Irish  Channel,  and  shall  forget  everything  except 
that  I  feel  very  sick.  Are  you  certain  they  will  want 
me?" 

"  Certain,"  said  Marcus  with  conviction.  "  My 
Uncle  likes  any  one  who  hasn't  heard  all  his  stories  at 
least  ten  times;  then  the  fact  of  your  being  German 
will  be  such  a  surprise  to  him,  and  he  will  shout  at  you, 
because  he  thinks  all  foreigners  are  deaf.  Hesper  has, 
of  course,  known  you  by  proxy  for  years." 

Eitel  flushed  and  moved  uncomfortably. 

"  You  did  not  repeat  my  hetise  about  Waldenburg?  " 

"  Did  I  ?  I  don't  remember.  It  doesn't  matter  if 
I  have." 

"  It  matters  very  much."  Von  Verlhof  stiffened  his 
back.  "  It  would  appear  a  piece  of  effrontery  —  im- 
possible   " 

Marcus  laughed  irrepressibly. 

"  Hesper  would  think  nothing  at  all  about  it.  But 
then  I  can't  make  you  know  her  as  I  could  make  her 
know  you.  She  is  above  and  beyond  description. 
Wait  until  you  meet  her," 

A  week  later  Marcus  and  Eitel  had  left  France  be- 
hind them,  and  were  at  their  journey's  end.  Von  Verl- 
hof stood  in  the  big  square  hall,  talking  to  his  host,  as 
Marcus  had  disappeared  through  a  door  into  some  un- 
known region.  Von  Verlhof  was  very  polite,  but  his 
eyes  wandered,  and  he  looked  in  vain  for  the  girl  whom 

96 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

he  had  said  he  would  come  to  Ireland  to  sweep  away 
with  him  to  the  forests  of  Waldenburg.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  Hesper  had  not  been  on  the  steps  to  wel- 
come Marcus.  This  time  she  wanted  him  to  come  to 
her,  and  she  waited  in  the  big  drawing-room.  She 
could  not  meet  him  with  any  eyes  to  watch  other  than 
her  father's,  who  was  gifted  with  a  faculty  for  never 
seeing  anything  that  he  did  not  know  all  about  before- 
hand, and  could  be  trusted  to  notice  nothing;  she  felt 
that  the  moment  was  too  great  and  perfect  to  spoil  in 
any  way,  and  so  she  waited  for  Marcus. 

She  was  dressed  in  filmy  white,  and  her  smooth  head 
shone  under  the  light  of  the  candles  in  the  great  glass 
candelabra  that  hung  from  the  ceiling.  Outside  the 
lilac-tinted  evening  was  full  of  the  scent  of  flowers, 
and  the  birds  sang  evensong  to  the  quiet  skies.  Her 
heart  beat  furiously  as  she  heard  Janover's  quick,  im- 
petuous step  come  towards  the  door,  and  she  held  out 
her  arms  towards  him  silently. 

"  Schone  Seclc,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  were  touched 
with  the  awe  and  power  of  love.  *'  Hest,  I  have 
missed  you  so." 

For  a  little  while  there  was  not  any  need  of  speech 
between  them ;  they  passed  upwards  from  level  to  level 
of  the  ascending  range  of  joy,  no  flaw  in  their  perfect 
happiness,  for  it  was  the  hour  of  meeting  forces,  and 
all  else  was  flickering,  inconsistent,  and  unreal.  Words 
could  tell  neither  of  them  anything;  the  actuality  of 
being  and  the  actuality  of  love  lifted  them  both  beyond 
the  reach  of  any  need  for  expression. 

At  last  Hesper  broke  the  spell. 

"  Marcus,  ]\Iarcus,  we  have  lost  our  manners,  you 
and  I.     You  left  yours  in  France,  and  I  must  have  mis- 

97 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

laid  mine  somewhere  in  this  room,  for  I  really  do 
usually  carry  them  carefully  about  with  me.  Where  is 
Eitel  ?  How  could  you  leave  the  poor  dear  with  Dad  ? 
He  will  be  drinking  three  kinds  of  whisky  before  he 
gets  up  to  dress  for  dinner.  Dad  still  believes  that 
hospitality  consists  of  trying  to  make  your  guests  dnrnk 
as  quickly  as  possible." 

She  slipped  from  his  arms  and  ran  to  the  door, 

"  Come  back,  Hest,"  he  said  vehemently.  "  I  don't 
care  if  I  have  to  carry  Eitel  up  to  his  room,  or  if  he 
gets  there  on  all  fours." 

"  But  I  do,"  she  replied  over  her  shoulder. 

Her  eyes  were  shining  like  stars  when  she  came  into 
the  hall,  and  Eitel  turned  from  listening  to  an  account 
of  the  pulling  of  a  horse  in  a  local  race  meeting  and 
looked  at  her. 

That  was  how  she  first  appeared  to  him,  and  she 
radiated  joy  in  every  gesture  of  her  body.  She  was 
full  of  such  buoyant  gladness,  and  such  ringing  life, 
that  he  could  have  sworn  that  the  very  fire  blazed  up  to 
greet  her,  and  the  light  grew  brighter  everywhere. 
She  walked  towards  him,  and  at  the  same  moment 
Eitel  von  Verlhof  received  her  into  his  heart,  and  set 
her  there,  kneeling  in  spirit  before  her  dancing  feet. 

Outwardly  he  only  bowed  formally,  and  made  a 
polite  statement  about  the  weather  and  the  crossing, 
and  once  again  Hardress  lassoed  him  back  to  his  sub- 
ject. Hardress  had  taken  an  immediate  liking  to  Eitel. 
he  thought  him  a  very  fine-looking  young  fellow,  with 
his  height  and  his  solemn  dignity  of  manner,  and  he 
also  thought  it  would  cost  him  a  long  figure  to  buy 
hunters  up  to  his  weight.  He  thought  it  wonderful 
that  Von  Verlhof  understood  all  that  was  said  to  him, 

98 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  he  admired  his  slightly  foreign  manner  and  exces- 
sive formality,  for  Hardress  himself  was  never  formal, 
and  the  novelty  of  his  nephew's  friend  pleased  him 
extremely. 

Hesper  had  not  waited  for  any  introduction,  but 
came  towards  Eitel  with  a  smile,  wondering  a  little 
at  his  sudden  flush  as  she  took  his  hand. 

"  Marcus  will  show  you  your  room,"  she  said,  look- 
ing back  towards  Janover,  who  came  slowly  across  the 
hall  behind  her.  **  I  am  so  glad  to  have  met  you  at 
last,  for  I  have  really  known  you  for  years." 

"  I  hope,  gnddiges  Frdulein,  that  you  have  only 
heard  good  of  me." 

*'  I  heard "  her  eyes  danced.     "  No,  I  shall  not 

tell  you." 

"  You  did  not  tell  her?  "  Eitel  enquired  anxiously  as 
he  followed  Marcus  along  an  immense  corridor. 

Marcus  lifted  the  light  he  carried  over  his  head. 
"  Hullo !  Eitel,"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "  You  are 
growing  self-conscious."  He  went  in  at  a  door  and 
lighted  the  candles  on  the  mantelpiece  and  dressing- 
table.  In  the  great  size  of  the  room  the  light  was 
engulfed. 

"  In  any  case  if  you  want  to  tell  her  yourself,  noth- 
ing I  said  forestalled  it."  He  spoke  lightly,  but  his 
eyes  were  suddenly  arrested  by  the  expression  on  Eitel's 
face  which  he  saw  reflected  in  the  mirror,  "  We  shall 
be  late  for  dinner,"  he  remarked  hastily,  "  so  stop 
dreaming  and  get  ahead  with  your  things." 

"  Stop  dreaming."  Eitel  repeated  the  advice  to 
himself  as  he  dressed,  and  he  repeated  it  again  and 
again  as  the  days  of  his  stay  went  by.  but  the  strong 
secret  force  that  hunts  the  universe  had  caught  Eitel 

99 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

von  Verlhof  in  one  swift  moment,  and  the  magical 
sweet  passion  full  of  fire  and  yearning  moved  his 
heart.  Hesper  brought  into  his  life  with  one  rush  of 
conquest  all  the  colour  and  music  that  lives  in  the  wind 
and  the  sun,  and  flooded  his  being  with  a  tragic,  tender 
radiance. 

Some  days  after  the  arrival  of  Marcus  and  Eitel, 
Marcus  and  Hesper  were  walking  in  the  woods  below 
the  house.  Von  Verlhof  had  gone  with  Hardress  to 
see  some  horses  at  a  dealer's  ten  miles  off,  and  Hesper 
watched  them  go  with  a  long  and  somewhat  pensive 
look. 

The  day  was  full  of  soft,  misty  sunlight,  and  the  river 
lay  like  a  dream  river  under  a  gauze  veil.  Now  and 
again  a  bird  broke  into  vivid  song,  and  the  flags  along 
the  bank  whispered  with  little  rustling  sounds.  An  old 
cart  track,  thick  on  either  side  with  bluebells,  led 
through  the  wood,  and  in  an  interspace  of  green  lawn, 
sheltered  by  tall  beeches,  a  felled  tree  made  a  wander- 
er's seat. 

Marcus  sat  down  on  the  grass,  leaning  against  Hes- 
per, his  arm  across  her  knees,  and  she  bent  down 
towards  him.  A  faint,  delicate  breeze  blowing  from 
out  of  a  rent  of  sky  torn  in  the  soft  clouds,  and  bring- 
ing with  it  the  fragrance  of  violets,  touched  her  hair. 

The  sweetness  of  the  day  and  the  wonder  of  her 
beauty  brought  to  him  a  sense  of  something  that  ap- 
proached sadness.  His  joy  in  her  was  so  full  that  it 
became  akin  to  pain.  What  was  the  use  of  any  life  to 
him,  if  he  was  to  be  separated  even  for  a  time  from  the 
woman  with  the  indispensable  gift?  Hesper  expressed 
everything  his  youth  desired,  and  without  her  all  living 

lOO 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

was  only  partial  and  incomplete.  A  madness  to  pos- 
sess her  crept  up  in  his  heart.  He  longed  to  bind  her 
to  him,  never  to  let  her  go  again,  to  make  their  lives 
one,  shining  into  perfect  unity  year  after  blessed  year ; 
and  out  of  his  longing  a  pang  tore  his  heart  to  think 
what  he  should  lose  if  ever  he  lost  her  and  the  love  she 
gave  him. 

Just  overhead  a  lark  broke  out  into  wild  song,  and  he 
caught  her  close  to  him. 

"  Hest,  you  will  never  change  to  me.  As  God  sees 
me.  Hest,  I  will  love  you  to  the  last  day  I  live,  and 
wherever  death  takes  me."' 

She  let  herself  go  to  him,  mastered  by  his  sudden 
tempest  of  passionate  challenge  to  the  unknown  years. 

"  In  Ireland  nothing  ever  changes."  she  said  in  a 
voice  that  faltered  a  little.  "  I  won't  change,  and  I 
couldn't.     Partly  because  if  I  tried  it  would  be  no  use, 

and  partly ''     She  laughed  as  though  to  break  the 

seriousness  that  was  over  them,  "  Oh,  it's  the  locality, 
I  expect." 

"  You  sweep  everything  else  clean  outside  my  life. 
I  loved  you  when  I  was  a  boy  at  school,  though  I  didn't 
understand.     Paris  taught  me  how  much  I  loved  you ; 

I  suppose  it  is  like  that "  he  spoke  thoughtfully. 

**  Every  step  of  the  way  one  learns  how  utterly  one  is 
bound  to  just  one  living  soul  out  of  all  the  millions  on 
earth." 

"  Everything  is  you  to  me."  She  stroked  his  hair. 
**  I  have  nothing  else,  Mark " 

"  I  love  your  voice,  Hest,"  he  went  on,  watching  her. 
"  It  is  full  of  your  brave  free  soul.  You  have  a  dozen 
ways  of  saying  even  one  word.  I  listened  to  you  say- 
ing '  Yes  '  and  '  Yes  '  and  *  Yes  '  to  Eitel  last  night  — 

lOI 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

you  said  nothing  else  to  him,  Schone  Seek,  but  all  your 
*  Yeses '  were  quite  different  ones.  How  do  you 
doit?" 

"  One  always  says  *  Yes  '  to  Eitel,"  she  said,  sitting 
back  a  little  from  him,  "  because  he  seems  to  be  always 
right." 

Marcus  looked  at  her,  and  his  eyes  held  hers  deter- 
minedly.    "  Do  you  know  that  he  loves  you  ?  " 

The  colour  flooded  her  clear  skin,  and  then  ebbed 
slowly  away,  leaving  her  very  pale. 

"Hush,  Mark!     I  can't  bear  you  to  say  that." 

"  I  might  have  foreseen  it.  When  I  brought  him 
here  I  might  have  guessed  —  I  might  have  kno\vn." 

"  He  cannot  —  he  must  not  love  me,"  she  said,  put- 
ting her  hand  over  her  face.  She  was  empty  of  joy  in 
one  moment,  and  her  distress  was  deep  and  sudden. 
"  It  seems  so  indiscriminate,  so  fatally  impracticable  — »■ 
so  more  than  cruel,  if  he  does." 

"  Surely,  Hest,  you  must  have  known  it  yourselt?  ** 

"  It  is  so  sad,"  she  replied  vehemently,  and  she  got 
up  and  stood  gazing  before  her  into  the  green  shadows 
of  the  wood. 

Marcus  stood  beside  her,  and  put  his  arm  round  her 
shoulder. 

"  I  don't  see  Eitel  as  you  do,"  she  said,  raising  her 
face  to  his.  "  To  me  he  appears  like  a  purpose.  In- 
exorably still  and  calm,  and  his  own  ignorance  of  him- 
self, his  own  simplicitv.  makes  him  more  full  of  dan- 
ger." 

"  Danger?     I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Fate  will  use  him.  Mark,  that  is  what  I  am  trying 
to  tell  you.  Oh.  Marcus  !  " —  the  name  broke  from  her 
like  a  cry — "  I  felt  as  if  you  and  I  might  escape  from 

1 02 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  strong  terrible  law  that  takes  and  uses  our  lives 
up  for  something  that  is  not  our  own  little  destiny,  but 
if  Eitel  is  joined  to  us  we  cannot  get  away  from  the 
fatality  that  he  brings  with  him.  I  know  it  —  I  have 
known  it  from  the  first  minute  I  saw  him.  Eitel  is  not 
lucky  for  me  or  for  you !  " 

Janover  looked  at  her  silently  and  then  he  smiled. 

"  Hest,  it's  the  very  first  time  I've  ever  seen  you 
jumpy  in  the  nerves.  Xot  *  lucky ' !  You  Irish- 
woman! Why,  Eitel  would  give  his  honest  soul  for 
you  to  walk  over,  and  he  would  do  more  for  me  than 
any  man  I  know." 

Hesper  smiled  back  at  him,  but  her  look  was 
shadowed,  and  she  turned  quickly  to  other  subjects  as 
they  walked  together  along  the  cart  track  back  to  Ard- 
shane. 

In  her  quiet  way  Hesper  Sheridan  was  entirely 
Celtic.  Like  most  women  she  had  an  intuition  where 
love  is  concerned,  and  she  guessed  almost  at  once 
that  Eitel  von  Verlhof  loved  her.  She  knew  also 
that  he  would  not  speak  one  word  of  his  love  to  her, 
and  as  she  sat  alone  in  her  room  that  night  she  deter- 
mined that  he  should  break  this  resolution.  She  was 
haunted  by  one  thought,  and  she  was  dominated  by 
inexplicable  fear.  Reason  and  logic  were  useless  to 
her,  and  she  was  certain  alone  of  her  deep-rooted  pre- 
monition that  in  Eitel  von  Verlhof  lay  a  power  to  at- 
tract dread  events.  She  could  not  explain  nor  under- 
stand her  own  certainty,  and  she  felt  that  even  if  she 
conquered  it,  and  the  strength  of  her  feeling  receded, 
or  she  lost  the  conviction  that  now  gripped  her,  she 
would  evade  nothing,  and  only  go  on  blindly  to  the 

103 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

moment  when  her  present  madness  would  be  explained 
and  accounted  for  with  the  exactitude  of  a  mathe- 
matical problem. 

If  she  could  really  do  anything,  the  one  way  to 
achieve  her  purpose  was  to  make  Eitel  understand  that 
she  felt  this  fear,  and,  by  the  force  of  her  own  con- 
viction, persuade  him  to  stand  outside  the  life  of 
Marcus  Janover. 

She  realized  the  cost  of  what  she  intended  to  de- 
mand, and  she  felt  a  great  pity  towards  Von  Verlhof, 
but  it  did  not  shake  her  purpose. 

The  morning  brought  no  change  to  her  determina- 
tion, and  she  sat  behind  the  large  silver  urn  and  waited 
for  the  moment  when  she  could  ask  Eitel  quite 
naturally  to  walk  with  her  to  the  top  of  the  hill  behind 
the  house  to  see  the  great  boulder  tliat  rose  up  there 
lonely  and  isolated  in  a  sea  of  heather.  To  those  who 
first  came  to  the  "  Motto  Stone  "  was  the  privilege  of 
wishing  for  something  that  was  bound  to  come  true. 
It  made  an  excuse  to  take  Eitel  away  into  the  purple 
uplands,  and  she  intended  to  introduce  the  subject 
carelessly  when  her  moment  offered.  Marcus  was 
talkmg  enthusiastically ;  he  had  just  received  his 
orders  to  go  to  Berlin,  and  Eitel  was  also  moved  to 
enthusiasm. 

"  You  see,  mein  licher,"  he  said,  his  eyes  on  ^Tarcus, 
"  I  am  a  good  prophet.  When  you  talked  of  Peters- 
burg and  Christeffsky  and  living  in  the  heart  of  the 
White  Nation,  I  said  *  Berlin.'  When  you  talked  of 
Ice  Carnivals  on  the  Neva,  and  Lyof  Tolstoi  and 
Pacificism,  I  said  '  Berlin.'  " 

"  And  now  I  am  going  to  Berlin,"  replied  Janover. 
**  Zum  hochstcn  Dasciti  immerfort  zu  strebcn.     You 

104 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

watch  that  old  Rhine  of  yours,  Eitel.  I  shall  dimb 
into  high  diplomacy  after  a  year,  I  warn  you,  and 
then  I  shall  smoke  a  meerschaum,  and  talk  about  limi- 
tation of  armaments." 

"Germany?"  said  Hesper  suddenly.  "How 
strange." 

"  My  country."  Eitel  spoke  with  a  touch  of  emo- 
tion.    "  Now  perhaps,  Fraulein,  you  will  come  there." 

"  Indeed  she  will  not,"  interposed  Hardress. 
"  She  can't  be  spared." 

*'  Berlin  shall  be  hung  with  flags  in  your  honour," 
went  on  Eitel,  smiling.  "  We  should  make  your  ar- 
rival a  day  of  rejoicing  —  like  a  victory." 

"  Victory  is  so  one-sided,"  objected  Hesper.  "  It 
means  somebody's  defeat.  No.  you  had  better  both 
come  back,  and  I  will  get  the  Young  Ireland  band  out 
to  play  you  up  to  the  house.  We  may  even  be  a  Nation 
then,  if  Dad  hasn't  prevented  it." 

"  I  still  hope  you  will  come." 

Hesper  nodded  her  head  wisely.  "  If  you  really 
want  me  to  come  up  there,  you  shall  have  your  chance. 
I  will  take  you  up  to  the  Motto  Stone,  and  you  can 
wish.  Only  in  Ireland  could  you  find  such  a  friendly 
stone  as  that.  You  climb  up  a  little  rail  and  stand 
on  the  top,  and  the  winds  carry  away  your  wish  to  the 
place  where  wishing  comes  true  —  and  presently  you 
get  it,  when  it  has  grown  strong  enough." 

Eitel  lowered  his  eyes,  and  tried  to  hide  what  he 
felt  must  be  plainly  evident  to  her  had  she  seen  his 
glance.  "  I  will  be  delighted  to  accompany  you,"  he 
said  formally. 

Hesper  and   Eitel  walked  to  the  top  of  the  hill, 
105 


,The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  though  it  was  a  hot  brooding  day  down  in  the 
valley,  there  the  wind  was  awake,  and  the  sweep  of 
purple  heather  was  clear  and  empty  and  vast;  one 
of  those  fine  ultimate  spaces  where  words  become  small 
and  fall  away,  and  human  beings  are  silent,  no  matter 
how  much  they  adore  and  desire,  or  long  to  express 
the  meaning  of  their  souls.  They  sat  down  at  the 
foot  of  the  Motto  Stone,  and  Hesper  gave  herself 
up  to  the  mood  the  surroundings  evoked  in  her.  As 
Eitel  watched  her  he  thought  that  in  aftertime  he 
would  always  remember  her.  sitting  in  the  shadow  of 
the  rock.  She  represented  her  own  country  to  him, 
embodied  it,  and  exhaled  its  mystic  attraction  like  per- 
fume. And  though  he  knew  she  loved  Marcus  Jan- 
over  there  was  no  trace  of  sentimentality  in  her  at- 
titude. She  belonged  to  something  more  than  a  great 
individual  love,  she  was  Ireland,  and  the  mirth  and  the 
tragedy  of  Ireland  lived  in  her  changing  eyes. 

"  You  are  wondering  at  me,"  she  said,  catching  his 
long  look,  "  and  at  my  manners.  We  pride  ourselves 
on  our  manners,  Herr  von  Verlhof,  for  we  haven't 
got  big  obvious  things  that  make  us  rude  and  rich. 
Irish  people  are  never  supposed  to  make  any  one  feel 
themselves  a  tax,  or  a  bore,  or  a  fool.  The  English 
are  different  —  they  are  virile,  they  have  that  wonder- 
ful honesty  that  yawns  in  people's  faces,  and  they 
think  it  '  only  right '  to  make  any  one  they  dislike, 
even  a  little,  fully  aware  of  their  decision.  In  our 
barbaric  country  we  call  it  bad  form,  and  they  retort 
that  we  are  insincere.  Just  then  I  was  paying  you  the 
compliment  of  thinking  about  something,  with  you 
sitting  beside  me." 

io6 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Which  am  I,  gnddige  Fr'dulein,  a  tax  or  a  bore 
—  or  am  I  a  fool?  " 

Hesper  smiled  slowly. 

"  I  wish  I  were  a  fool  and  we  might  establish  a  re- 
lationship. Oh!  I  am  such  a  fool.  Do  you  think, 
being  as  you  are  a  German  and  probably  very  wise, 
that  you  could  understand  my  folly  which  sounds  like 

utter  —  oh "  she  felt  about  for  a  word,  and  then 

spelled  it  — "  B-o-s-h." 

The  sudden  intimacy  of  her  manner  tried  him 
beyond  endurance,  and  he  smiled  back  at  her,  a  wrung, 
washed-out  smile. 

"  I  believe  I  could  always  understand  you." 

She  bent  forward  and  looked  at  him  closely. 

"Always?     And  why?" 

"  Gott,  I  will  not  tell  you,"  he  said  fiercely. 

Hesper  did  not  move  and  her  eyes  narrowed  a 
little. 

"  I  am  afraid  of  you,  Herr  von  Verlhof ." 

"  Then  my  beautiful  Fraulein,  you  do  puzzle  me  a 
little." 

She  pulled  up  a  little  bunch  of  heather  and  studied 
it  carefully. 

"  You  love  Marcus  Janover?  "  Her  voice  was  low 
and  breathless. 

"  And  I  am  not  alone  in  doing  so." 

"  You  are  not  alone,  for  I  also  love  him."  She 
looked  up  at  him  steadily.  "  And  yet  you  have  no 
feeling  of  fear,  no  indefinite  foreboding.  You  know 
nothing  that  isn't  as  solid  as  that " —  she  pressed  her 
hand  on  the  ground.  "  You  have  no  inspiration  about 
the  future  ?  " 

107 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Eitel  moved  a  little,  and  he  took  the  heather  from 
her  hands  and  held  it  in  his  hollowed  palms. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  no  nervous  system.  1  am 
Teutonic.  But  what  is  it  that  you  fear?"  He  put 
the  sprig  of  heather  in  his  coat,  and  taking  her  hands 
in  his,  kissed  them. 

Hesper's  eyes  grew  tender  as  she  looked  at  his  bent 
head ;  his  act  was  devoid  of  the  smallest  bid  to  excite 
compassion,  and  yet  it  was  full  of  pathos. 

"  Could  you  stand  away  from  this  new  beginning 
in  jNTark's  life?  Could  you  keep  from  having  any- 
thing at  all  to  say  to  him  while  he  is  in  Berlin?  " 

Von  Verlhof  looked  at  her  in  blank  astonishment. 

"  Stand  away?  Give  Marcus  up  entirely  during  the 
years  he  will  be  in  my  owti  country?  Fraulein.  what 
have  I  done  that  you  should  mistrust  my  influence? 
When  he  leaves  Berlin  he  may  go  anywhere  —  to 
Japan,  China,  the  ends  of  the  earth  from  me." 

"  You  have  done  nothing."  She  gazed  out  at  the 
empty  country,  her  eyes  full  of  indefinite  trouble.  "  I 
ask  because  I  cannot  help  asking.  There  is  a  deeper 
cause  for  it  than  I  can  explain.  ...  I  only  know 
that  you  will  bring  some  grave  crisis  towards  him. 
sooner  or  later,  and  I  do  not  know  how  I  know 
it." 

"I  bring  him  trouble?  Fraulein,  I  would  do  any- 
thing for  Mark." 

"  Then  keep  away  from  him."  She  held  out  her 
hands,  and  when  he  took  them  in  his  they  were  icy 
cold.  "  I  can  feel  things  coming,  just  as  one  hears 
footsteps  along  a  frozen  road  long  and  long  before 
they  reach  the  house."  Her  eyes  held  his  as  though 
she  listened  to  something  he  could  not  hear.     "  And 

^o8 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

I  hear  you  step,  and  you  will  bring  with  you  some 
fatal  hour  for  Marcus."  She  could  not  restrain  her 
emotion,  and  her  voice  was  charged  with  the  force 
of  her  deep  conviction.  "  When  I  was  a  child  I  read 
a  story  of  one  of  Napoleon's  w^ars,  and  it  haunted  me, 
coming  back  to  me  in  my  dreams;  the  story  of  a  pitch 
dark  night  full  of  icy  wind  and  the  thunder  of  guns, 
and  over  it  all  a  voice  shouting  '  A  la  hdionnetU/ 
Last  night  I  dreamed  of  it  again.  Think  of  what  I 
say,  listen  to  me  now,  and  do  what  I  ask  of  you." 

He  kissed  her  hands  desperately. 

"  Mein  Hcrta,  mcin  Hertz,"  he  replied  brokenly, 
"  what  is  it  in  me  that  makes  you  believe  I   could 
bring  woe  or  ill  to  Mark?     I  am  only  a  soldier,  and 
am  ignorant  of  many  things.     Must  you  ask  this  of 
me?" 

She  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

"  You  and  I  don't  matter,  Mark  alone  really  counts. 
If  I  felt  that  I  might  be  wrong  somehow  in  his  life  I 
would  go  out  of  it  utterly.     It  is  for  him  that  I  ask.'* 

He  thought  for  a  time,  and  then  he  spoke  quietly. 

"  Will  it  bring  you  peace  of  mind  if  1  promise  ?  " 

Hesper's  eyes  lighted  as  though  a  great  weight  was 
lifted  off  her  mind. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  gently,  and  she  kissed  him 
as  a  child  might  have  kissed  his  kind  honest  face,  out 
of  sheer  love  and  trust  in  his  goodness;  and  Eitel  was 
content,  knowing  that  he  had  been  able  to  make  her 
heart  glad. 

Von  Vcrlhof  did  not  see  Hesper  alone  again  before 
he  said  goodbye,  for  Hardress  had  collected  a  "  poker 
crowd  "  after  his  own  heart,  and  they  never  broke  up 

1 09 


iThe  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

[until  long  after  midnight.  There  was  no  opportunity 
if  or  sentiment,  even  if  Eitel  had  sought  for  it,  which  he 
did  not. 

**  And  our  Irish  fortnight  is  done,"  said  Marcus  as 
he  sat  on  Eitel's  bed;  outside  the  open  window  the 
dawn  was  growing  clear. 

'*  Yes,  it  is  done." 

Marcus  took  a  pack  of  cards  from  his  pocket  and 
threw  them  on  the  floor  where  they  scattered  and  fell. 

*'  There  is  my  friend  the  ace  of  spades,"  he  said 
with  a  laugh.  "  Turned  up  to  me.  by  Jove.  We 
have  a  saying,  *  What  falls  on  the  floor  comes  in  at 
the  door.'  That  old  black  fellow  carried  a  Macabre 
significance,  he  means  Hell,  or  something  unpleasant." 

Eitel  did  not  turn  from  where  he  stood  at  the 
>vindow. 

"  I  am  glad  you  brought  me,  Mark,  I  shall  always 
remember." 

"  No  one  ever  forgets  their  first  taste  of  Ireland." 
Marcus  joined  him  at  the  window.  "  Dawn  over  the 
blessed  Old  Country,"  he  went  on  half  sadly.  "  What 
shall  we  both  have  been  and  seen  and  done  before  we 
watch  it  here  again?  Or  shall  we  see  it,  standing  at 
the  same  windows,  again,  I  wonder?  " 

Eitel  stood  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  If  destiny  wills,"  he  said,  after  a  long  pause. 


no 


CHAPTER  X 

ONE  autumn  evening,  some  months  later,  Marcus 
Janover  walked  towards  the  Tiergartenstrasse, 
going  slowly  to  the  house  of  Lord  Shaw  ford,  his 
Chief. 

The  trees  were  turning  into  fountains  of  yellow 
leaf,  and  the  line  of  ambre  and  sunset  ran,  like  a 
presentment  of  Nature's  decadent  ecstasy,  before  and 
behind  him.  Overhead  a  clean  blue  sky  spread  in- 
tensely clear,  and  the  gay  life  of  fashionable  Berlin 
rode  and  drove  and  walked  with  him  as  he  went. 
Face  followed  after  face,  personality  after  personality, 
nearly  all  going  in  the  direction  of  Unter  den  Linden 
by  the  way  of  the  Tiergarten  where  the  statues  of 
the  old  rulers  of  the  German  Empire  stared  solemnly 
at  them,  as  though  wondering  eternally  at  the  folly 
of  their  lives. 

It  seemed  to  Marcus  that  there  was  a  smell  in  the 
air  of  old  Berlin;  the  little  forgotten  village  rose  be- 
fore him  and  he  experienced  the  uncanny  feeling  of 
realization  of  unnatural  grow^th.  Old  Berlin  caught 
him  out  of  the  fresh  autumn  evening  as  though  it  had 
a  secret  to  reveal.  Dim  mists  clouded  the  distances 
like  swaying  blue  chiffon  scarves,  and  even  the  crude- 
ness  of  new  Berlin  became  absorbing  for  a  moment. 
.The  sheer  romance  of  the  beautiful  perspective  of 
trees,  vague  in  the  distance  and  the  rising  damp,  the 
red  bars  of  light  growing  vivid  as  the  sunset  clouds 

III 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

began  to  gather  in  the  upper  sky,  the  pageant  of  pass- 
ing life  and  the  fleeting  show,  all  acted  upon  his  fancy 
and  made  him  feel  suddenly  as  unreal  as  though  he 
were  a  disincarnated  Berliner  looking  for  his  small  lost 
house  by  the  Spree. 

A  woman  in  a  remarkable  and  original  dress  passed 
him  in  a  large  purple  motor,  drawing  his  eye,  and 
slightly  to  his  surprise  he  recognized  Ursule.  She 
was  accompanied  by  two  joyous  young  officers  and 
she  neither  saw  nor  recognized  Marcus,  who  did  not 
particularly  desire  to  recall  their  old  acquaintanceship. 
He  remembered  her  laugh  ana  hurried  on,  quickening 
his  pace,  and  once  again  he  thought  of  the  little  lost 
Berlin,  of  which  no  fleeting  echo  wandered  in  the  life 
around.  Here  there  was  no  place  for  simple  mem- 
ories. All  was  colossal,  nouvcau  richc,  and  tainted 
to  the  core  with  strong  materialism.  Only  the  au- 
tumn evening  lent  blue  scarves  of  gauze  and  mystery, 
and  lent  something  ethereal  to  the  dense  afiluent  solid- 
ity. The  lyric  life  belonged  to  the  sunset  and  not  to 
the  railed  roofs  and  towers  and  spires  of  the  vista  be- 
fore him.  A  chime  of  bells  rang  out  intensely  sweet 
and  clear  from  the  Dom,  its  harmonies  swinging  into 
the  evening,  and  its  slow\  clear  tone  making  quivering 
notations  in  the  air.  For  a  moment  he  paused  to 
listen  and  then  went  on  until  he  came  to  the  big  house 
in  the  Tiergartenstrasse. 

Lord  Shaw  ford's  private  apartment  was  a  lofty 
room  with  large  doors  on  the  same  floor  as  the  hall. 
A  fire  burned  in  the  big  grate  and  the  books  around 
the  walls  made  the  best  and  most  expensive  mural 
decoration  known  to  man.     A  few  large  engravings 

112 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

of  British  notabilities  hung  in  the  spaces  left  by  the 
bookcases,  and  on  the  writing-table  a  powerful  electric 
lamp  was  already  lighted. 

Lord  Shaw  ford  was  a  large,  bulky  man  of  heavy 
build  with  keen,  quiet  eyes;  he  wore  his  clothes  care- 
lessly and  his  hair  was  constantly  worked  into  wisps 
owing  to  a  habit  he  had  of  recklessly  passing  his  fingers 
through  it.  When  IMarcus  came  in  he  glanced  up  and 
nodded. 

"  There  is  something  in  the  air,''  he  said  briefly, 
and  plunged  back  into  the  pile  of  papers  before  him. 
Marcus  sat  down  by  the  fire  and  warmed  his  hands. 
He  knew  Lord  Shaw  ford  would  have  more  to  say 
when  the  moment  came;  and  after  a  little  he  ceased 
to  turn  leaves  and  looked  up  once  more. 

"  This  effort  after  a  better  understanding  between 
England  and  Germany  isn't  within  the  scope  of 
common  sense,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  fierceness, 
in  a  dry,  metallic  voice.  "  It  is  nothing  —  it  does  not 
exist.  They  might  as  well  talk  about  universal  peace. 
Poof !  "  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  stretched  out 
his  legs. 

"  England  refuses  to  admit  that  there  is  such  a 
locality  as  that  interesting  Bureau  in  the  Koniggriitzer- 
strasse?  " 

"  England  still  lives  on  the  Manchester  doctrine," 
Lord  Shaw  ford  snapped  out  his  rejoinder,  "  and  their 
peace  cry  is  *  Cut  down  the  x\rmy,  economize  on  the 

Navy,'  draw  out  teeth  and  claws  and "     He  broke 

off  with  a  gesture  of  disgust.  "  One  man  in  the 
Cabinet  doesn't  want  this  and  another  doesn't  want 
that,  and  what  they  all  want  is  to  save  public  money 

113 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  show  a  good  balance-sheet."  He  twisted  his 
mouth  grimly.  "  They'll  have  to  dip  deep  in  their 
damned  pockets  for  it  yei." 

"  I  suppose  they  won't  understand  the  simple  fact 
that  a  nation  which  is  an  army  is  hardly  there  to  play 
with  armaments  and  picnic  manoeuvres."  Marcus 
stood  up  and  leaned  on  the  mantelpiece.  It  was  not 
the  first  time  that  Lord  Shaw  ford  had  sent  for  him 
when  his  wrath  was  at  boiling  pitch. 

**  They  knoiv  it  is  not.  They  know  that  the  forces 
which  Berlin  would  control  in  a  war  would  be 
9,000,000,  and  if  the  Dual  Monarchy  came  in  with 
Berlin  you  may  double  the  number.  Good  God !  what 
it  must  be  to  be  able  to  run  an  army  without  political 
interference.  When  I  think  of  our  system  set  against 
this  model  of  efficiency  it  becomes  tragedy.  Here  one 
man's  signature  means  war  if  he  wants  it,  and  we  have 
to  pull  a  dozen  strings  and  open  a  dozen  doors  and 
ask  the  people  who  know  nothing  if  they  are  satisfied, 
down  to  the  crossing-sweeper  who  has  a  vote,  before 
we  can  begin  to  work ;  and  all  the  time  this  army  of 
aggression  is  clothed  over  in  sheepskins  by  our  men  in 
Parliament  who  represent  the  country." 

Lord  Shaw  ford  leaned  forward  and  balanced  an 
ivory  paper  knife  over  his  finger,  rocking  it  up  and 
down. 

"  You  never  make  notes,  do  you,  Janover?  " 

Marcus  shook  his  head. 

"  I  can  trust  my  memory." 

Lord  Shawford  glanced  at  a  pile  of  papers  at  his 
elbow. 

"  I  can  trust  mine  about  as  much  as  I  can  trust  the 

114 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

•Balkans,"  he  said  irritably.  "  When  I  inform  the 
Government  of  possible  phrases  it  means  endless  writ- 
ing. There  is  another  Conference  on  foot  now  with 
the  usual  difficulties.  At  this  conference  recorded 
strengths  will  be  stated  and  data  of  navies  and  so  on, 
and  there  is  the  eternally  problematic  question  of  the 
United  States,  ^^'hat  I  chiefly  wanted  you  for  this 
evening  was  to  ask  if  you  knew  Count  von  der  Schultz, 
late  of  the  Erste  Dragoner  Garde?" 

Janover  nodded  thoughtfully. 

*'  The  man  we  call  '  Hans  Breitmann,'  "  he  said  with 
a  quick  smile.     "  Every  one  in  Berlin  knows  Hans." 

"  Well,  Von  der  Schultz  is  a  man  whom  I  recognize 
as  a  dangerous  enemy.  H  we  are  to  be  hypnotized  in 
England,  and  if  we  are  to  be  deaf.  dumb,  and  blind 
to  the  warning  of  coming  events,  it  is  probable  that 
Berlin  will  send  Von  der  Schultz  to  London.  They 
study  every  effect  over  here,  and  he  looks  British, 
talks  English,  races,  and  is  just  the  man  to  hit  popular 
English  sentiment.  He  may  be  a  second-rate  states- 
man, but  he  is  a  picked  man  for  all  that."  Lord 
Shawford  drummed  his  fingers  on  the  table  and  was 
lost  in  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  If  he  is  admitted  on  some  pretext  to  the  Con- 
ference. I  shall  know  that  they  mean  sending  him." 

"And  if  he  goes?" 

*'  Then  it  will  be  a  case  of  no  compromise.  The 
volcano  will  burst.  Von  der  Schultz  is  kept  as  certain 
men  in  my  old  Parliamentary  days  were  kept  —  for 
bringing  things  to  a  crisis.  What  is  needed  for  that 
is  impudence.  Von  der  Schultz  can  be  trusted  by  his 
party,  I  infer,  and  until  the  moment  comes  that  they 

115 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

want  him,  he  can  run  horses  for  the  Derby  and  look 
like  an  Englishman.  Up  to  that  moment  the  control 
used  will  be  strong." 

"  Then  the  crash  will  come  in  the  very  heart  of 
peace." 

"  Exactly.  There  has  been  too  much  war  talk 
from  the  wrong  sources.  If  the  one  set  of  journalists 
or  politicians  shriek  *  War  with  Germany '  it  only 
harms  and  retards,  it  assumes  the  nature  of  a  party 
cry,  and  God  knows  I  ought  to  realize  this  point. 
Who  are  shouting  it  now  in  the  streets  of  London?" 
He  shrugged  his  heavy  shoulders.  "  And  yet  they 
are  only  speaking  the  solemn  truth." 

He  turned  over  the  papers  beside  him,  his  bushy 
eyebrows  drawn  into  a  close  frown. 

"  This  Von  der  Schultz,"  he  said,  waking  from  a 
deep  abstraction,  "  you  say  you  know  him.  You  are 
able  to  mix  easily  with  these  men  on  account  of  your 
own  training.     Where  did  you  first  meet  him  ?  " 

Marcus  explained  that  Von  der  Schultz  had  been 
one  of  the  elder  boys  in  his  school,  though  he  did 
not  add  that  it  was  he  who  first  called  that  now 
well-known  personage  Hans  Breitmann.  and  the  name 
had  stuck. 

"What  is  your  opinion  of  him?" 

Marcus  thought  steadily  for  a   few  moments. 

"  Outwardly  —  socially,  I  mean  —  he  is  popular, 
open-handed,  and  entertains  rather  a  varied  assort- 
ment of  friends  at  the  Cafe  Bauer.  I  should  describe 
him  as  a  cheerful  social  animal  —  but  behind 
that " 

"  Ah,  that  is  the  point." 

**  I  should  say  his  political  passion  is  strong.     He 

ii6 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

guards  it  very  carefully,  but  it  comes  out  now  and 
then.     He  is  not  always  strong  enough  to  hide  it." 

"  Rather  more  than  a  year  ago  Von  der  Schultz 
came  into  prominence,"  said  Lord  Shawford  reflec- 
tively. "  Certain  enquiries  were  being  made  by  one 
of  our  agents,  and  in  papers  we  received  it  transpired 
that  Von  der  Schultz  was  in  with  the  War  Party 
to  a  very  exceptional  extent.  With  regard  to  his 
future  activities  I  do  not  wish  to  be  left  in  the  dark. 
Can  you  assist  me?  " 

"  I  shall  find  it  quite  easy  to  join  Von  der  Schultz's 

social "    Marcus   paused,   he   was   about   to   say 

"  menagerie "  and  altered  the  word  to  "  circle." 
"  He  went  to  Heidelberg  after  he  left  my  school. 
We  have  memories  in  common." 

"  Which  is  not  always  a  good  passport,"  remarked 
Lord  Shawford  drily.  "  However,  as  he  is  a  Prussian 
he  is  likely  to  brag,  and  if  you  hear  him  do  so  you 
can  memorize  the  fact." 

"  You  think  he  knows  already  that  he  is  likely 
to  be  chosen  for  a  mission  ?  "  Marcus  looked  steadily 
at  the  fire  as  he  spoke.  "  Sent  to  the  Embassy  in 
London  to  take  over  some  extraneous  work  there  ?  " 

"  I  consider  it  very  probable.  He  stands  just 
now  for  the  weather-cock  which  will  show  us  where 
the  wind  will  blow  from,  and  the  sooner  I  am  certain 
the  better  prepared  I  shall  be." 

Marcus  walked  down  the  steps  of  the  house  pro- 
vided with  more  than  sufficient  food  for  thought. 

I-XDrd  Shawford  had  shown  him  over  and  over  again 
that  he  trusted  him  and  could  feel  confidence  in  his 
judgment,  and  Marcus  would  hardly  have  been  human 
if  he  had  not  immensely  appreciated  the  fact.     This 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

question  of  coming  into  touch  with  Von  der  Schultz 
presented  the  interest  of  a  game  whereby  he  might 
happen  upon  an  unrevealed  secret.  His  power  of  see- 
ing things  in  lucid  flashes  would  be  of  enormous  help 
to  him,  he  knew,  and  he  hoped  that  the  dense  material- 
ism of  his  old  school-fellow  would  not  cloud  his  per- 
ception of  the  man  behind  the  mere  brute  instinct. 
Every  one  he  passed  in  the  street  had  some  secret  that 
explained  them,  and  for  a  moment  they  became  trans- 
figured as  he  walked  towards  his  own  house  behind  the 
Dom.  It  was  dark  and  the  softness  of  evening  had 
flown.  Berlin  was  bright  with  its  night  gaiety,  and  he 
crossed  the  Friedrichstrasse  watching  the  crowd. 

The  oppression  of  numbers  swayed  over  him  as 
it  had  done  many  times  in  London,  and  the  people 
on  the  pavement  and  the  people  in  the  road  suddenly 
became,  not  people  of  form  and  flesh,  but  countless 
myriads  of  souls.  The  idea  of  the  forces  compelled 
by  their  thoughts  weighed  upon  him  and  was  almost 
horrible  to  him.  He  knew  that  he  always  suffered 
from  contact  with  crowds;  they  gave  him  glimpses 
of  uncontrolled  things,  until  he  realized  what  it  was 
that  drove  anchorites  and  philosophers  into  the  wilder- 
ness, and  knew  how  easily  he  himself  might  come 
to  hate  this  monstrous  nearness  of  other  lives.  He 
had  a  sensation  of  choking  revelation,  and  the  grasp 
of  it  caught  him  at  the  heart. 

The  gay  women,  the  Windelstraus,  passing  with 
a  flutter  of  skirts  and  wandering  glances,  appeared 
sadder  to  him  than  anything  else  in  the  throng,  and 
saddest  of  all  because  of  their  raffish  gaiety.  They 
might  belong  to  the  scheme  of  the  Universe,  but  it 
seemed  to   Marcus  that  to  dispose  of   them  as  an 

ii8 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

immemorial  necessity  was  essentially  false.  Men, 
placed  in  the  reverse  condition  would  be  unthinkable. 
Plordes  of  well-dressed  men  wandering  for  hire.  The 
idea  was  appallingly  nauseating,  and  yet  men  were 
taught  to  reverence  women!  He  walked  on  quickly, 
unable  to  find  any  solution  of  the  mystery. 

He  dined  alone  and  wrote  a  short  letter  to  Hesper 
before  he  went  out. 

It  was  late  when  he  got  to  the  Cafe  Bauer,  where, 
as  he  expected,  Von  der  Schultz  was  entertaining  a 
noisy  party.  The  great  room  was  crowded  and  fumes 
of  cigar  smoke  mounted  to  the  gilded  ceiling.  It 
struck  Marcus  that  it  might  be  an  ornate  corner  of 
well-dressed  Hell.  A  string  band  on  a  raised  dais 
played  alluringly,  but  no  one  listened,  and  the  tables 
were  all  crowded.  To  be  sure  of  a  table  it  was  neces- 
sary to  engage  it  before  the  theatres  closed,  and  Marcus 
had  deliberately  taken  no  such  step. 

As  he  stood  with  his  marked  air  of  calm  insolence 
looking  over  the  heads  of  the  seated  crowd,  he  caught 
the  eye  of  Von  der  Schultz,  who  raised  his  glass  and 
waved  a  table  napkin  vigorously. 

Marcus  threaded  his  way  with  slow  deliberation 
to  the  large  flower-laden  table.  Von  der  Schultz  had 
five  women  and  eight  men  collected  as  his  guests, 
and  one  of  the  women,  the  most  daringly  clad  of  the 
five,  was  Ursule. 

The  words  of  the  song  that  had  given  Von  der 
Schultz  his  name  danced  thought  the  mind  of  Marcus: 

O  crown  your  head  mit  roses,  lof, 
O  keep  a  liddle  sprung; 
Onendless  wisdom  is  but  dis, 
To  go  it  vile  you're  young. 
119 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Und  age  vas  nefer  coome  to  him, 
To  him  spring  blooms  afresh, 
Who  fints  a  liffing  spirit  in 
Der  Teufel  and  der  Flesh. 

"  Hullo,  Hans,"  said  Marcus  carelessly.  "  I'm 
the  day  after  the  fair  so  far  as  a  chance  of  supper  is 
concerned." 

Von  der  Schultz,  his  face  flushed  and  his  eyes 
hquid,  laughed  a  stentorian  laugh. 

"  Nichts  cu  danken,  Marcus  Janover."  He  glanced 
at  his  guests.  "  What  lady  will  oblige  the  imperturb- 
able Mr.  Mark  Janover  of  His  Britannic  Majesty's 
Embassy  with  half  her  chair?  —  Ursule,  mein  Turtel- 
taube " 

"  There  is  room  in  my  place,"  suggested  a  pallid 
young  lieutenant,  who  looked  as  though  he  had  already 
drunk  rather  too  much  of  his  host's  Champagncr.  He 
got  up  a  little  unsteadily.  "  Ich  soil  —  Ich  imll  —  Ich 
muss " 

Marcus  took  his  place  and  sat  down  at  the  table. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him?  Why  is  he  con- 
jugating verbs?  " 

"  He  is  young,"  said  Von  der  Schultz,  "  and  1  put 
him  beside  Ursule.  Ach,  you  and  she  are  ac- 
quainted? " 

"  We  met  in  Paris."  She  stretched  a  bare  arm 
across  Marcus  and  drank  from  Von  der  Schultz'  glass. 
"  But  we  did  not  know  each  other  well." 

For  a  moment  Marcus  studied  her.  She  was  hand- 
some, heavy-lidded,  audacious,  and  was,  as  he  first 
had  judged  her,  feline  and  cruel.  When  she  raised 
her  chin  tlie  gesture  was  suggestive  of  a  cobra  about 
to  strike.     He  wondered  what  chance  had  brought  her 

120 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

to  Berlin,  or  if  it  were  anything  in  the  nature  of  chance. 
Ursule  was  deliberate  and  calculating  and  hard  as  the 
nether  millstone.  A  sudden  curiosity  awoke  within 
him. 

"Have  you  been  in  Paris,  Hans?"  he  asked  care- 
lessly. 

"  Not  I."  His  light  eyelashes  flickered  as  though 
some  inward  thought  amused  him.  "  What  need  for 
me  to  go  to  Paris  when  Paris  comes  to  me;  is  that 
not  so,  niein  Wasserlilief  " 

The  term  of  endearment  he  used  was  simple 
enough,  and  yet  jNIarcus  realized  that  the  Waterlily 
3vas  not  pleased ;  he  did  not,  however,  glance  at  Ursule. 

"  Count  von  der  Schultz  and  I  were  at  the  same 
school,"  he  said  in  the  stiff  reserved  voice  which  his 
company  believed  to  be  essentially  British.  "  He  was 
a  senior  boy.     I  was  only  a  nonentity." 

**  And  now  he  is  a  fat  man  and  you  are  so  pretty," 
threw  in  a  fair-haired  girl  across  the  table,  "  so  that 
if  he  was  cross  to  you  then,  you  can  make  him  suffer 
now." 

Von  der  Schultz  laughed  joyfully. 

"  He  may  have  you,  Lisbeth ;  we  grow  as  dreary  as 
an  old  married  couple ;  but  Ursule  he  may  not  have." 

Marcus  wondered  exactly  what  the  meaning  could 
be.  As  he  ate  his  supper  and  the  night  wore  on,  he 
became  more  and  more  certain  that  there  was  some- 
thing else  than  a  mere  light  connection  between  Von 
der  Schultz  and  this  woman  who  laughed  and  smoked 
and  used  amazingly  lurid  language. 

The  Cafe  Bauer  rang  with  music  and  laughter, 
and  parties  greeted  each  other  from  end  to  end  of 
the  building. 

121 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"If  we  were  in  London,"  remarked  Von  der 
Schultz,  "  we  should  by  now  be  parading  in  the  streets, 
wasf  London  is  entirely  uncomfortable.  After  mid- 
night, Klops!  all  the  doors  shut.     It  is  very  stupid." 

"  Why  do  the  doors  shut?  "  asked  Lisbeth. 

"  Because  the  English  are  so  good,  so  good,  and  it 
is  time  zu  Belt  su  gehen."  He  chuckled  and,  standing 
up,  poured  the  remainder  of  a  bottle  into  Marcus  Jan- 
over's  glass. 

"  I  do  not  love  your  London,  Mark." 

"  Well,  you  haven't  got  to  live  there,"  Marcus  said 
almost  offensively.  "  You  are  too  valuable  at  Span- 
dau,  I  suppose." 

"  Perhaps  1  am  —  perhaps " 

Ursule,  who  was  apparently  not  listening,  beat  her 
hands  on  the  table  and  broke  into  a  song  as  the 
violinists  played  madly. 

"  Je  suis  chauffeur  d'un  automobile,"  sang  Ursule 
in  a  shrill  soprano.  "  Join  in  the  chorus,  Monsieur, 
it  is  delicious." 

Marcus  was  becoming  extremely  tired  of  the  party, 
but  he  had  fully  determined  to  see  it  out,  and  towards 
the  small  hours  of  the  morning  he  at  last  disentangled 
Von  der  Schultz  from  his  friends,  and  without  quite 
knowing  how  he  managed  it  he  found  himself  sitting 
in  his  host's  car,  as  they  slid  along  under  a  brilliantly 
starry  sky  towards  the  Kurfiirstendam,  in  which  ex- 
pensive locality  the  Count  lived. 

"  I  never  would  permit  Ursule  or  Lisbeth  or  any 
of  them  so  much  as  inside  my  door,"  he  said  with 
virtuous  determination.  "  Ursule  was  angry.  Gott! 
what  a  temper  she  has !  " 

"  I  thought  she  seemed  peevish,"  Marcus  rq)lied, 

122 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

lighting  a  cigarette.     "  However,  I  expect  you  caii 
manage  her.'' 

By  the  light  of  the  vesta  which  he  held  Von  der 
Schiiltz  winked  heavily  and  said  nothing. 

'■  Nun,  you  will  have  a  drink  —  a  dam'  whisky- 
soda,  was?" 

"  It's  so  late."     Marcus  looked  at  his  wrist  watch. 

"  Nonsense,  we  aren't  in  London.  Come  in,"  and 
the  hospitable  Count  opened  the  door  with  his  latch- 
key. 

Marcus  entered  half  unwillingly  and  followed  Von 
der  Schultz  into  a  sternly  furnished  room. 

"  This  is  where  I  work.  You  have  hidden  your- 
self, Janover;  I  believe  it  is  the  first  time  you  are 
here?" 

"  And  this,"  thought  Marcus,  "  is  the  room  that 
reflects  the  other  side  of  your  mind,  my  friend." 
On  the  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room  lay  Treitsche's 
Politik  and  Deutsche  Kampfen,  which  Marcus  glanced 
at  as  the  Count  poured  out  a  drink  for  him  at  a 
side  table,  and  returned  carrying  a  plate  of  sandwiches. 

"And  do  you  like  Diplomacy?"  he  asked,  sitting 
in  a  deep  chair  opposite  Marcus.  *'  You  would. 
You  think  me  a  bad  judge  of  women,  but  I  am  a 
good  judge  of  men.  I  never  over-estimate  the  wisdom 
or  folly  of  others." 

"  I  didn't  say  anything  about  women,"  said  Marcus, 
laughing. 

"  But  you  thought,  '  Here  is  this  old  fool  Hans 
tied  to  a  petticoat  string.'  Oh,  I  know  very  well  that 
you  did." 

Marcus  blew  out  a  spiral  of  smoke  very  slowly. 

"  Perhaps  I  did." 

123 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

He  began  to  feel  something  tangible  at  last.  Von 
der  Schultz  was  vain,  and  a  vain  man  is  invariably- 
vulnerable. 

"  No,"  he  added,  as  if  the  concession  was  wrung 
from  him  against  his  will,  "  you  are  not  a  man  to 
be  at  the  mercy  of  a  mere  intrigue  —  and  besides,  you 
have  obligations." 

"  My  good  Janover,  I  am  most  acutely  aware  of 
that  fact."  He  moved  restlessly  in  his  chair.  "  And 
all  goes  well  in  the  Embassy.  We  are  upon  the  eve 
of  a  better  understanding?  " 

"  An  absolute  millennium." 

"  Gut.  I  am  almost  as  much  English  as  you  are 
German.  France  your  Ally!  Gott  in  Himmel.  it  is 
farcical.  There  is  not  one  point  upon  which  you 
stand  on  level  ground  —  not  one." 

"Level  ground  —  I  think  not."  Marcus  lifted  his 
glass  and  looked  at  it  sideways. 

Von  der  Schultz  looked  at  Marcus  with  a  shifty 
eye. 

"You  are  talking  of  your  Navy?" 

"  Not  I."  Marcus  met  his  look  with  astonishment 
and  candour.  "  Don't  let  your  own  attachment  to 
diplomacy  lead  you  to  suppose  that  I  should  fence 
with  you,  Hans.  I'm  hardly  sufficiently  in  the  know 
to  attempt  such  a  ridiculous  exhibition."  He  became 
more  earnest  and  slightly  confidential.  "  I  have  the 
archaic  objection  to  my  own  nationality  to  conquer 
before  I  get  well  inside.     You  know  I  am  Irish?  " 

The  Count  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"  Ach,"  he  said  dubiously,  "  I  have  heard  —  no 
matter.  But  surely  you  are  not  any  the  less  valuable 
to  them  for  that  reason?  " 

124 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Less  valuable  ? "  Marcus  asked,  speaking  with 
sudden  heat.  "  Good  God,  Von  der  Schultz,  do  you 
know  what  you  are  talking  about?"  He  laughed 
and  lay  back  in  his  chair.  "  England  owes  us  almost 
everything  she  has.  Her  best  generals,  her  best 
statesmen,  her  best  colonizers,  her  best  soldiers.  It  is 
the  Irish  in  me  that  is  all  that  is  worth  while." 

Marcus  was  riding  boldly,  and  he  saw  Von  der 
Schultz  looking  at  him  again. 

"Why,  of  course,  Mark  Janover,"  he  said,  slapping 
his  hands  together.  "  It  was  you  who  got  the  prize 
in  the  Freiheit  debate.  Are  you  still  a  revolutionary, 
mein  Liehcrf  "     He  laughed  his  hoarse  guttural  laugh. 

"  Is  one  ever  anything  but  the  same  as  one  began  ?  " 

"  Never,"  said  Von  der  Schultz  restlessly.  "  The 
heart  cannot  alter." 

"  You  were  for  German  world  predominance.  I 
can  see  it  all  now,"  said  Marcus,  his  eyes  half-closed. 
"  You  were  very  much  of  a  man  to  me,  you  and  the 
six  old  boys  from  Heidelberg  who  came  to  the  great 
debate.  You  quoted  the  Great  Elector,  Friederich, 
Stein  and  Scharnhorst.  What  dreamers  we  both  were 
after  all.  You  said  that  if  Germany  submitted  to 
peace,  then  Bismarck  had  lived  in  vain,  and  I  said  — 
God  knows  what  I  said.  Yet  here  we  both  are  drink- 
ing to  Friede,  and  each  in  our  own  way  trying  to  help 
it  on." 

Von  der  Schultz  pursed  up  his  full  red  lips  and 
nodded. 

"  Certainly,"  he  remarked.  "  Peace."  He  drew  a 
quick  breath.     "  Of  the  nature  I  understand  it  to  be." 

"  I  wish  to  God  they  would  send  you  to  England," 
said  Marcus,  still  sitting  with  half-closed  eyes.     "  You 

125 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

know  how  much  can  depend  upon  representation. 
But  there,  of  course,  you  are  too  young  from  the 
Berlin  standpoint,  and  besides,"  he  smiled,  "  there 
is  that  razzle-dazzle  reputation  of  yours  as  well ; 
England  expects  something  different,  and  I  don't 
honestly  believe,  Hans,  you  could  do  without  your 
Ursules  and  your  Lisbeths." 

Von  der  Schultz  reddened  with  quick  annoyance. 

*'  You  are  not  infallible,  Janover.  I  could  show 
you  a  letter  that  might  surprise  you  a  little.  I  may 
not    go    to    England,    but    the    suggestion    has    been 

made "     He   pulled   himself    up   with   difficulty. 

"  I  could  go." 

"  Well,  it  only  shows  your  fellows  have  more  sense 
than  I  expected,"  said  Marcus  with  refreshing  in- 
nocence. "  You're  a  sportsman,  you  hunt  and  race, 
and  you  could  enter  into  their  social  life."  He  got  up 
with  a  stifled  yawn.  "  In  fact,  you're  very  English 
in  heaps  of  ways." 

Von  der  Schultz  looked  half-uneasily  at  Marcus. 

**  You  are  a  queer  devil,  Mark,"  he  said  as  he 
saw  him  out  of  the  door,  bidding  him  return  soon. 
"  A  queer  devil,"  he  said  again  as  he  went  back 
into  his  room.  "  And  if  ever  they  hit  you  at  the 
Embassy  you  may  be  queerer  still." 

Marcus  walked  back  to  his  house  behind  tlie  Dom 
just  as  the  sky  was  clearing  for  sunrise. 

"  It  was  a  damnable  evening,"  he  thought  as  he 
got  into  his  bed,  *'  but  at  least  it  wasn't  mere  waste 
of  time." 


126 


CHAPTER  XI 

ABOUT  the  time  that  Marcus  Janover  took  up  the 
dropped  threads  of  his  old  acquaintanceship 
with  Count  Karl  von  der  Schultz,  he  experienced  one 
of  the  first  bad  disappointments  of  his  career. 

Affairs  in  the  Balkans  had  for  some  time  been  caus- 
ing a  considerable  amount  of  interest  tliroughout  the 
Diplomatic  world,  the  world  that  knew  well  that  small 
nations  can  be  fractious  and  disposed  to  indulge  in 
the  luxury  of  sedition  when  circumstances  permit. 
Serbia  and  Bulgaria,  with  ancient  dominions  to  estab- 
lish, were  calling  to  mind  the  fact  that  once  Prussia 
had  also  been  a  small  Power,  and  felt  that  an  hour 
might  soon  strike  which  would  release  them  from  the 
shadows,  and  England  stood  in  the  eyes  of  those  who 
held  the  helm  of  the  smaller  ships  of  state  as  a  Power 
ready  to  encourage  national  feeling.  Germany  rattled 
a  sword  still  in  its  scabbard,  and  Austria  turned  a  cold 
gluttonous  eye  towards  Belgrade  and  the  Serbian 
country.  To  be  sent  to  Belgrade  on  however  small  a 
pretext  from  Berlin  was  to  be  sent  to  a  point  of  acute 
interest,  and  Marcus  Janover  felt  his  heart  beat  quicker 
at  the  prospect. 

Hamer,  one  of  the  military  attaches,  spoke  to  him 
about  the  prospect  of  his  going. 

"  Even  if  it  is  only  a  Messenger's  job  it  is  sure  to 
be  lively.  You  can  always  take  local  temperatures. 
Serbs  don't  much  appreciate  Teutonic  culture." 

They  were  standing  on  the  staircase  as  he  spoke, 

127 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  Marcus  was  on  his  way  to  an  interview  with  Lord 
Shawford. 

"  It  might  be  pretty,"  said  Marcus,  his  eyes  hghting. 
"  A  game  of  euchre,  where  the  Jack  takes  the  King, 
is  always  full  of  possibihties." 

"  I  expect  you'll  be  standing  behind  the  chair  of 
the  man  who  holds  the  Jack,"  said  Hamer  with  a 
laugh.     "  Good  luck,  anyhow." 

Yet  when  Marcus  went  into  the  vast  room  that 
always  seemed  like  a  room  in  another  world,  so  full 
it  was  of  shadows,  nothing  was  said  to  him  of  what 
he  desired  to  hear. 

Lord  Shawford  appeared  unconscious  of  the  exist- 
ence of  Balkan  States  and  their  warfare,  he  only  wished 
to  enquire  after  the  health  of  Von  der  Schultz.  He 
was  glad  to  know  that  Janover  had  renewed  old  ac- 
quaintance and  that  Von  der  Schultz  had  openly 
hinted  at  his  chance  of  going  to  London.  He  was 
only  faintly  interested  in  Ursule,  and  turned  down  the 
corners  of  his  large  mouth  cynically.  "  Lepers."  he 
said  tersely,  swaying  the  ivory  paper-knife,  which 
seemed  like  a  familiar  spirit  to  him,  over  his  thick 
forefinger. 

"  When  this  woman  was  in  Paris  whom  did  she 
attach  herself  to?  " 

"  I  used  to  see  her  with  Le  Cornu,  a  journalist,  but 
later  on,  sir,  she  was  with  De  I'lsle,  a  French  artillery 
general." 

"  Artillery  generals  should  have  more  common 
sense."  Lord  Shawford  shrugged  his  heavy  shoulders 
and  expressed  himself  on  the  subject  of  women  in 
general. 

"  They  are  all  bom  spies.     They  do  it  for  their  own 

128 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

entertainment.  They  spy  on  each  other  and  ferret  out 
their  ages  and  incomes.  Women  are  queer,  always 
queer,  Janover.  The  Government  that  trusts  to  reports 
from  governesses  and  cocottes,  the  two  easiest  roles 
for  the  spy,  is  trusting  to  a  broken  reed.  I  hate 
women.     Always  have,  thank  God." 

]Marcus  lingered  as  long  as  he  dared,  still  hoping 
to  hear  that  Lord  Shaw  ford  was  inclined  to  indicate 
that  he  had  approved  his  temporary  absence,  but  no 
hint  came,  and  he  was  obliged  to  take  an  entirely 
reluctant  departure.  On  the  steps  of  the  Embassy  he 
met  Reynolds,  whose  face  outshone  the  morning  stars. 

"  By  George,  Marcus,  I  never  expected  this  bit  of 
luck  to  come  my  way,"  he  said,  walking  beside  Jan- 
over towards  the  Domstrasse. 

"  Come  and  have  a  drink  in  my  rooms  on  the 
strength  of  it,"  Marcus  replied  with  forced  enthusi- 
asm. There  was  no  need  for  any  question  on  his  part. 
Humphrey  Reynolds  had  been  taken  and  he  had  been 
left,  and  he  cursed  Berlin  in  his  heart. 

"  It  isn't  much  of  a  job  on  the  face  of  it,"  con- 
tinued Reynolds.     "  I  have  nothing  at  all  to  do." 

"  All  the  more  time  for  enjoying  yourself." 

"  By  George,"  said  Reynolds  again,  "  it  is  a  sur- 
prise." 

Reynolds  and  Marcus  stood  about  level  as  to  senior- 
ity, but  Reynolds  himself  would  have  been  the  first 
to  admit  that  Marcus  must  have  the  first  chance  with 
every  opening  that  in  any  way  affected  the  Juniors. 

They  walked  together  to  Domstrasse  3.  and  into  the 
grey  and  gold  room  that  Marcus  loved  and  had 
furnished  entirely  according  to  his  own  taste.  After 
he  had  poured  out  a  drink  for  Reynolds  and  one  for 

129 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

himself,  he  stood  looking  abstractedly  at  a  vase  full 
of  yellow  irises.  He  had  an  almost  feminine  love  of 
flowers,  and  just  at  that  moment  the  sight  of  the  irises 
comforted  him  in  some  strange  still  way. 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  you,"  said  Reynolds,  repeat- 
ing himself  and  sitting  down  by  the  fire.  "  I  can't 
imagine  why  it  is  not." 

"  I  can,"  thought  Marcus,  inwardly  cursing  Von  der 
Schultz.  "  Good  luck,  anyhow,  Humphrey,"  he  said 
aloud.  "  The  answer  to  your  riddle  will  be  Russia. 
I'm  told  that  they  pave  the  streets  of  Belgrade  with 
roubles  these  days." 

"It's  a  wonderful  life,"  said  Reynolds.  "Even 
you  could  hardly  complain  that  it  is  dull." 

"Even  I?  Am  I  so  difficult  to  amuse?  I'm  a 
little  bit  too  well  entertained  as  it  happens.  I've 
thought  of  going  to  Hanover  for  a  rest  to  see  the 
finest  man  I  know,  Eitel  von  Verlhof,  but  the  cross- 
grained  devil  is  never  there  when  I  want  him  " ;  he 
spoke  impatiently.  "  I'm  off  colour.  I  supped  too 
well  last  night  again,  and  had  to  sit  and  laugh  at  that 
great  gross  Von  der  Schultz  until  I  got  a  swimming 
in  the  head. 

"  And,"  added  Reynolds,  smoothing  his  fair 
moustache.  "  His  Excellency  sent  for  yon" 

"  And  had  me  on  the  mat  —  oh,  yes.  rather,"  Marcus 
agreed.  "  It  doesn't  do  to  be  seen  at  four  in  the  morn- 
ing at  the  Cafe  Bauer." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  between  them. 

"  I'm  damned  sorry,  old  chap,"  said  Reynolds  in 
a  gruff  voice,  for  he  was  past  master  at  emotional  tact- 
lessness.    "  I  expect  that's  why " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  Marcus  spoke  cheerfully.     "  It's 

130 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

your  luck.  While  you  are  disporting  your  diplomatic 
body  at  Belgrade,  I  shall  be  at  the  Koniglichenschloss, 
standing  with  my  back  to  the  wall  in  the  Black  Eagle 
Room,  watching  the  beau  monde,  and  wondering  when 
I  shall  get  some  punch  to  drink.  Amusing?  Oh,  it's 
wildly  amusing.  I've  often  wondered  if  the  Obcrhof- 
Marschall  enjoys  it  all." 

"  Still,"  said  Reynolds,  who  was  tenacious  of  an 
idea,  "  I  wouldn't  mix  up  with  that  Cafe  Bauer  lot 
too  much." 

"  I  have  four  corners  to  my  bed,"  said  Marcus, 
taking  a  cigarette  from  the  box  on  the  table.  "  I 
have  four  angels  round  my  head  —  the  Crown  Prince, 
Prince  Adalbert,  Prince  Eitel  Fritz,  Prince  August 
Wilhelm  —  and  Pm  afraid  there  isn't  room  for 
Joachim.  Even  a  Chef  de  Mission  may  flutter  in 
the  lower  spheres.  You'll  get  your  invitation  to  the 
Ordensfest  when  you  come  back,  and  I  foretell  that 
you'll  finish  up  with  medals  and  orders  all  over  the 
front  and  the  back  of  your  coat  —  and  as  for  riblx)ns, 
there  won't  be  a  flapper  in  Southsea  to  equal  you  in 
your  collection." 

"And  what  about  you?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know " ;  Marcus  looked  up  at  the 
ceiling.  "  Some  one  who  knew  a  lot  once  said  that 
beautiful  women  saw  the  worst  side  of  human  nature, 
because  equally  they  dealt  with  the  worst  of  men.  I 
think  Pm  rather  like  a  beautiful  woman  in  that  re- 
spect, Renny." 

"  That  sounds  very  cynical,"  said  Reynolds.  "  You 
aren't  growing  cynical,  are  you,  Marcus?  " 

"  I  am  no  more  cynical  than  the  wind  blowing 
through  the  forest.     I  suppose  I  am  ruled  by  some 

131 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

motive  that  I  hardly  understand.  Most  of  us  are. 
You  and  I  and  all  the  others,  we  think  we  are  playing 
the  game,  but  I  have  a  notion  that  it's  the  game  that 
plays  us." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  that,"  said  Reynolds  with  con- 
viction.    "  It's  brains  that  really  count." 

"  When  you  say  *  brains,'  I  say  *  instinct.'  You 
may  have  brains  enough  to  fill  a  tub  or  write  a  history, 
but  it  won't  help  you  in  times  when  life  is  cheap  and 
formalities  are  nil.  We  of  the  Corps  Diplomatique 
know  that  such  times  are  upon  us,  or  staved  off  us, 
by  something  less  tangible  than  brains."  Marcus  got 
up  and  began  to  walk  slowly  up  and  down  the  room. 

"After  all,  you  or  I  might  become  prominent 
men;  or  we  might  become  simple  respectable  members 
of  society  and  pay  our  bills  weekly,  or  we  might  take 
a  pickaxe  or  a  spade  and  have  a  hand  in  making  a 
new  Heaven  and  a  new  map  of  Europe." 

"  You  won't  do  that  with  a  spade,"  said  Reynolds, 
pleased  at  his  own  quickness. 

"  Yes,  you  will."  Marcus  stood  and  smiled  down 
at  him.  "  A  spade,  my  good  Renny,  is  not  an  imple- 
ment to  despise  if  you  want  to  re-organize  National 
destinies.  I^erhaps  you  may  live  long  enough  to 
understand  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that."  He  sat 
down  again.  "  What  is  the  real  point  is  whether 
one's  right  to  an  individual  life  is  undisputed  or  not  — 
whether  mortal  existence  is  not  really  given  us  like 
gold,  to  spend  on  others.  H  we  have  to  act  inevitable 
parts,  wouldn't  it  be  rather  a  queer  stroke  of  fate  to  be 
cast  for  the  inevitable  failure,  or  the  inevitable  Judas, 
or  the  inevitable  Scmiramis,  and  to  dance  down  the 
Hollcntreppe,  with  all  the  sins  of  the  successful  and  the 

132 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

righteous  in  a  bag  on  your  own  damned  shoulders." 
Reynolds  said  nothing.  He  felt  that  Marcus  was 
bitterly  disappointed,  and  that  his  strange  way  of  talk- 
ing was  the  result  of  his  own  success,  and  yet  he  could 
not  quite  believe  this  to  be  the  case. 

Marcus  was  glad  when  he  got  up  to  go.  He  liked 
Reynolds.  Every  one  liked  him,  and  there  was  a 
crystal  clearness  of  honesty  about  him  that  made  him 
command  respect.  "  He  should  have  been  a  Consul," 
was  the  opinion  that  Lord  Shawford  held  of  him. 
**  The  integrity  of  England  and  the  valour  of  St. 
George  are  about  him."  And  now  Reynolds  was  go- 
ing to  Belgrade.  Not  on  any  great  mission,  it  was 
true,  except  in  the  sense  that  most  missions  may  be 
great  ones. 

Marcus  wondered  if  he  should  have  been  chosen 
had  it  not  been  for  Von  der  Schultz,  and  he  began 
to  doubt.  He  cursed  himself  for  his  own  over  sub- 
tlety. It  is  as  bad  to  be  over  subtle  as  it  is  to  be  over 
stupid.  He  knew  that  Lord  Shawford's  eyes  were  as 
keen  as  a  razor  edge,  and  he  wondered  if  he  looked 
upon  him  as  a  man  who  is  spoilt  by  a  too  intense  quick- 
ness. As  he  was  asking  himself  this  question,  to  which 
he  knew  no  answer,  his  man  came  to  him  with  a  pile 
of  letters  on  a  tray,  and  on  the  top  lay  one  from 
Hesper. 

"  Marcus,"  she  wrote,  "  are  you  sitting  in  a  palace  in  Wil- 
helmstrasse,  all  dressed  up,  with  a  circle  of  Kings  and  Dukes 
and  Princes  and  Ministers  around,  saying  polite  things  to 
one  another?  I  cannot  imagine  your  diplomatic  entertain- 
ments. How  could  I?  My  only  idea  of  Germany  is  a  place 
where  you  went  to  school,  where  cheap  things  are  made,  and 
where  Christmas-trees  and  sausages  and  beer  all  come  from. 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

I  suppose  there  must  be  more  in  it  than  that,  but  it  hasn't 
reached  us  yet  in  Cork.  One  thing  I  am  pretty  sure  of  is 
that  human  nature  is  much  the  same  there  as  here.  Do  you 
go  to  Church?  You  said  you  had  a  Dom  quite  handy.  If 
you  do,  do  you  ever  wonder  if  those  good  people  who  also 
go  there  ever  really  think  at  all  about  what  they  profess? 
In  our  locality  there  are  twenty  families.  Six  aren't  on 
speaking  terms  with  the  Rector;  ten  don't  acknowledge  the 
existence  of  the  other  ten,  five  are  at  open  war  with  fifteen, 
two  are  not  only  at  war  with  all  the  rest  but  fight  among 
themselves,  and  yet  I  have  heard  them  state  that  they  are 
'in  love  and  charity  with  their  neighbours.'  If  their  attitude 
represents  either  I  hope  you  don't  love  me  much,  Mark,  for 
it  might  be  most  unpleasant.  Doesn't  it  make  one  laugh  ? 
What  can  their  candid  opinion  of  God  really  be?  Dad  is 
very  strict  about  Church-going.  He  does  it  because  it  is  the 
one  chance  he  gets  of  publicly  cutting  old  Sir  Jeffrey 
Spencer  whom  he  fought  with  twenty  years  ago,  though  he 
couldn't  tell  you  now  what  it  was  about.  And  so  it  goes  on, 
and  it  is  one  of  the  most  amusing  subjects  for  consideration 
on  a  cold  afternoon  that  I  have  found  for  some  time.  Per- 
haps these  awful  Victorian  Churches  make  people  ill-natured, 
and  in  the  country  no  one  forgets  a  grudge.  You  nurse  it 
like  a  sick  child,  you  fatten  it  like  a  Christmas  turkey,  you 
talk  of  it  or  brood  upon  it  and  it  becomes  Art,  Literature, 
and  Science  to  you.  It  is  astonishing  what  you  can  get  out 
of  some,  quite  possibly,  non-existent  injury  if  you  treat  it 
well. 

"  But  here  I  am,  dragging  you  back  when  I  ought  to  be 
taking  the  wings  of  any  reliable  bird,  and  trying  to  leave  all 
behind  and  '  clear  my  mind  of  Cork '  for  a  lucid  interval. 

"What  do  you  do,  Marcus?  Diplomacy  calls  up  visions 
of  armed  kings  sitting  with  a  map  on  a  table,  playing  at  land 
grab,  and  making  quotations  from  Alice  in  IVottdcrland ;  the 
cartoons  in  Punch  really  impressed  me  with  that  idea.  It  is 
unthinkable  that  it  can  be  anything  else.  The  very  word 
'  European  Powers  '  makes  my  head  whirl.  Are  they  men, 
dear  man  of  mine,  who  walk  up  staircases,  or  do  they  con- 
gregate like  Macbeth's  witches? 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"Lady  Mary  is  dead  Do  you  remember  Lady  Mary? 
She  insisted  on  my  getting  some  schoolmg,  and  bribed  Dad 
with  a  thousand  pounds.  Well,  it  isn't  there  to  have ;  poor 
dear,  she  lived  according  to  the  principle  of  '  v^hat  I  saved 
I  lost,'  and  when  the  will  was  opened,  though  it  read  very 
well,  there  was,  the  solicitors  say,  '  nothing  to  it.'  Dad  is 
very  angr\-.  He  says  Lady  Mary  was  unscrupulous  and  un- 
truthful, and  he  really  has  ended  by  persuading  himself  she 
was  a  saintly  swindler.  I  don't  care.  '  There  was  mair  lost 
at  Shirramuir  where  the  Hieland  lad  lost  his  faither  and  his 
mither  and  his  gude  bufiF  belt  worth  baith  of  them.' 

"  One  point  is  clear,  and  that  is  that  Dad,  having  always 
believed  me  '  provided  for '  by  the  prospect  of  Lady  Mary's 
thousand,  now  admits  that  he  has  not  '  put  by,'  as  he  calls  it. 
He  wouldn't  ever  have  '  put  by '  anyhow,  and  he  has  the  sat- 
isfaction of  feeling  that  my  future  insolvency  is  entirely  due 
to  her  and  not  to  him.  He  has  taken  to  sitting  in  the  eve- 
nings rubbing  his  chin  and  saying  at  intervals,  '  Graceless 
old  woman  '  or  '  Deceitful  old  wretch,'  and  he  asked  me  last 
night  if  'that  nice  Dutch  feller'  had  a  big  place  anywhere. 
Dear  old  Dad.  I  told  him  that  I  thought  Eitel  had  a  Schloss 
in  Spain.  Dad  is  beginning  to  matchmake,  and  I  foresee 
how  very  troublesome  he  will  get  the  more  the  idea  grows 
upon  him.  I  thought  of  telling  him  that  I  was  going  to 
marr>-  you  when  you  are  an  Ambassador,  but  felt  that  it 
might  be  wiser  not  to  allude  to  it  at  present.  When  are  you 
coming  back  to  Ireland?  When  will  you  be  able  to  disen- 
tangle yourself  from  all  those  Crowned  Heads  and  Lord 
High  Everythings  and  return  to  the  middle  classes?  I  must 
go  out  now  and  see  that  Donovan  is  heating  a  stupe  for  the 
chestnut  mare." 

Marcus  laid  down  her  letter  and  smiled.  She  had 
the  power  that  defied  .'^pace  when  she  wrote,  and  she 
brought  herself  to  him  vividly  and  clearly.  There 
she  was  —  one  had  but  to  hold  out  a  hand  to  touch 
her.  He  thought  of  her  in  the  dark  stable,  with 
sounds    of    stamping    and    mtmching    and    snorting 

135 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

all  around  her,  and  he  wondered  if  there  was  any 
life  really  better  in  its  way  than  the  life  she  lived 
and  that  contributed  to  making  her  what  she  was. 
He  loved  her,  not  with  the  wild  passionate  love  of 
early  manhood,  but  with  the  enduring  love  of  life 
behind  life.  She  was  his.  There  was  nothing  he 
did  not  understand  in  her,  and  every  tiny  "  way  " 
of  hers  was  so  known  to  him,  even  to  her  trick  of 
tapping  her  thumb  against  her  forefinger  when  she 
was  thinking  and  of  opening  her  eyes  wider  than  usual. 
She  was  essentially  and  entirely  his  woman,  the  very 
mate  of  his  soul.  He  longed  for  her  to  be  there 
with  him.  to  hear  how  sick  he  was,  how  disappointed 
and  how  sore.  And  then  his  mind  slid  almost  im- 
perceptibly from  her  to  Eitel. 

Eitel  was  another  disappointment.  Some  in- 
superable barrier  had  come  between  them,  and  held 
them  at  a  ridiculous  distance.  He  felt  if  he  could 
only  see  Eitel  that  this  nebulous  fog  would  be  dis- 
persed entirely,  and  he  got  up  and  wrote  a  telegram 
begging  his  friend  to  come  to  him  if  it  were  possible 
for  him  to  do  so.  And  then,  with  a  sudden  veering 
to  another  mood,  he  tore  up  what  he  had  written, 
and  wrote,  instead,  a  long  letter.  He  had  heard  a 
rumour  that  Eitel  had  been  duelling  and  that  he  had 
put  a  bullet  into  the  forearm  of  Herr  Leutnant  von 
Khele. 

While  he  was  writing  he  thought  of  Hesper  again, 
and  stopped  suddenly.  She  had  mentioned  Eitel  more 
than  once  in  letters,  and  Marcus  knew  that  there  must 
be  some  trace  of  a  woman's  tenderness  towards  a 
man  who  loved  her,  in  her  thought  of  him;  and  for 
the  first  time  he  wondered  if  it  was  because  of  Hesper 

136 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

that  Eitel  held  himself  apart.  Yet  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  believe  that  it  was  so;  he  knew  that  if  their 
cases  had  been  reversed  and  that  Hesper  cared  most 
for  Eitel  and  had  given  her  heart  into  his  keeping,  he 
would  not  have  loved  his  friend  any  the  less.  These 
things  were  above  and  beyond  all  choice,  and  he  knew 
that  Eitel  had  a  horizon  as  just  and  as  large  as  his 
own.  It  seemed  so  natural,  even  if  it  was  cruel,  that 
they  should  both  love  the  same  woman. 

Marcus  looked  out  through  the  window  beyond  his 
writing-table  and  his  eyes  rested  on  the  autumn  colours 
of  the  trees.  For  some  reason  his  destiny  and  the 
destiny  of  Eitel  von  Verlhof  were  linked  inextricably, 
and  the  dim  unreal  pathway  of  thought  leading 
eternally  to  the  feet  of  Hesper  Sheridan  was  thronged 
by  the  passing  of  his  dreams  and  the  dreams  of  his 
friend.  Marcus  knew  that  Eitel  gave  no  half  love 
to  her,  any  more  than  he  did  himself.  He  knew  that 
both  of  them  must  turn  towards  her  as  men  turn 
towards  a  shrine.  He  knew  that  out  of  his  heart 
Eitel  would  call  her  name,  as  he  himself  called  it;  he 
had  been  chosen,  and  Eitel  was  to  stand  eternally  out- 
side the  closed  door.  Marcus  leaned  his  face  on  his 
hands  and  tried  to  comprehend  it  all  more  clearly  as  he 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  look  at  life  through  Von 
Verlhof 's  eyes.  If  Hesper  loved  Eitel  and  not  him; 
if  she  did  —  a  sharp  pain  caught  his  heart  —  how 
would  life  be  for  him?  It  seemed  impossible  to  say 
that  love  was  merely  some  accident,  some  trifling 
chance  of  opening  a  door  or  crossing  a  road.  Marcus 
probed  the  question  with  all  the  curiosity  and  fascina- 
tion that  he  found  tracing  events  almost  grimly  to 
their  sources. 

137 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Eitel  had  been  at  the  mercy  of  a  chance  visit  to 
Ireland,  and  yet  he  claimed,  as  all  true  lovers  claim, 
some  right  to  consideration.  Honest,  uncompromis- 
ing Eitel,  who  so  determinedly  shut  himself  away  in 
Hanover,  and  lived  his  life  and  fought  his  duels  there 
behind  a  mysterious  curtain  of  silence.  There  could 
be  no  transitoriness  in  the  love  he  gave  to  Hesper; 
there  was  nothing  whatever  of  the  vagrant  lover  in 
Von  Verlhof ;  and  no  end  to  the  pain  he  was  certainly 
suffering.  Marcus  stared  at  the  closely-written  page 
under  his  hand  and  wondered  if  it  was  all  the  result 
of  unmeaning  accident,  and,  if  so,  was  not  the  gallant 
world  a  fearful  place  of  prison,  and  life  with  all  its 
smiles  and  promises  nothing  better  than  a  trap?  He 
called  up  his  memories  of  Eitel,  and  all  his  deep- 
rooted  love  of  his  friend  came  over  him  like  a 
tide.  His  own  place  and  part  seemed  to  identify  him 
almost  tragically  with  Eitel's  burden,  with  his  barren 
years  ahead,  with  his  permanent  sense  of  loss.  The 
contours  of  chance  and  destiny  seemed  so  distinct  and 
clear,  and  he  saw,  like  a  path  over  a  hill,  the  track  their 
feet  had  followed.  It  could  never  be  retraced,  and 
never  in  the  years  to  come  could  he  and  Eitel  be  just 
tlie  same  to  one  another;  not  even  though  they  stood 
as  comrades  in  the  same  friendship  and  could  look 
each  other  straightly  in  the  eyes. 

A  fiery  red  sky  lighted  suddenly  with  sunset  over 
the  grey  wall  of  the  garden  below  his  wnndows,  and 
a  great  restlessness  overtook  him.  He  returned  once 
more  to  his  own  disappointment  in  being  held  where 
he  was.  A  daring  new  departure  of  some  sort  would 
have  swept  his  brain  clear  of  the  strain  of  introspec- 
tion, and  he  called  himself  a  morbid  fool.     Even  if  he 

138 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

willed  to  do  it  he  could  not  relinquish  Hesper.  If 
he  espoused  poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience  in  a 
Dominican  cloister  and  buried  himself  out  of  human 
sight,  Eitel  would  gain  nothing  by  it.  The  fall  of  the 
cards  was  to  him,  and  he  felt  his  vigour  revive  like  a 
flame.  In  a  world  of  men,  saints  and  dreamers  w-ere 
at  a  discount,  Eitel  was  a  man  and  would  face  his 
hfe  with  a  man's  courage. 

Marcus  tore  up  the  half-written  letter,  as  he  had  de- 
stroyed the  telegram,  and  stood  by  the  window;  he 
was  still  standing  there  when  his  servant  came  in  carry- 
ing a  telegram  on  a  tray.  Tearing  it  open  hastily,  he 
read,  "  Your  father  seriously  ill.     Come  immediately." 

Once  more  the  inevitable  was  at  work  with  his  life, 
and  had  entered  it  with  violence  and  without  warning. 


139 


CHAPTER  XII 

SIR  HENRY  JANOVER  was  facing  death  in  his 
room  in  Deanery  Street.  All  fixed  outlines  had 
vanished,  and  at  last  he  was  a  tranquil  spectator  facing 
the  inevitable  phenomenon  of  experience  and  finding 
it  merely  another  phase,  somewhat  hampered  by  diffi- 
cult breathing. 

From  time  to  time  he  looked  at  the  door,  and  his 
unconscious  stoicism  touched  the  heart  of  his  white- 
capped  nurse,  who  watched  over  him  with  silent  care. 
She  was  behind  so  many  tragedies  that  she  thought 
not  at  all  about  it  when  he  declined  to  permit  his  wife 
to  invade  the  solitude  of  his  last  hours. 

Carefully  and  equably  he  explained  that  he  did  not 
wish  her  to  come,  and  that  he  saw  no  reason  for  seeing 
her,  and  yet  he  was  visibly  troubled  and  distressed  at 
the  delay  that  J^ad  to  be  endured  before  Marcus  arrived. 

"  I've  not  done  what  I  wanted,"  he  said  wearily  to 
the  nurse.  "  That's  the  only  thing  —  and  yet  per- 
haps it  will  work  out  right."  Visible  things,  things 
audible  and  sensible,  were  distant  from  him,  and  he 
fought  with  shadows,  always  looking  at  the  door,  wait- 
ing for  it  to  open  and  admit  his  son. 

"  Time  is  always  the  trouble."  He  took  a  glass 
from  her  hands  and  drank  its  mixture.  *'  Just  not 
enough  of  it.  When  I  am  on  the  side  of  the  dead  it 
won't  matter  —  so  one  comes  out  of  the  sunlight  to  die 
in  London."     He  leaned  back  and  rested  on  his  pil- 

140 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

lows,  and  a  smile  twisted  his  lips.  "  The  exclusive 
supremacy  is  always  a  question  of  minutes." 

Lady  Janover  tapped  at  the  door.  She  did  not  wish 
to  see  Henry,  but  it  seemed  the  right  thing  to  make 
a  fuss  about  it.  Often  she  had  wished  him  dead,  and 
had  thought  of  what  she  would  do  if  he  were  tactful 
enough  to  die  at  the  right  moment ;  but  now  she  feared 
the  future  desperately,  and  not  without  reason.  She 
knew  that  Henry  had  been  investing  and  losing  and 
doing  mad  things  about  money,  and  also  his  pension 
expired  with  his  last  breath. 

She  retired  from  his  bedroom  door  feeling  very 
much  irritated.  Henry  was  evidently  desirous  to  die 
in  as  much  peace  as  he  could  command,  and  declined 
once  more  to  see  her  upon  any  pretext,  and  she  was 
entirely  helpless  to  force  entrance  upon  his  privacy. 

Doctor  Harvey  had  condoled  with  her,  had  looked 
at  her  with  an  appreciative  eye,  and  had  said  that  sick 
men's  fancies  often  took  these  turns  at  the  last.  She 
knew  by  the  pressure  of  Dr.  Harvey's  fingers  when 
he  said  good-bye  to  her  that  she  had  his  full  sympathy ; 
and  she  revived  at  it.  li  her  husband  rejected  her, 
other  men  were  wiser  than  he.  Lydia  never  thought 
deliberately.  Her  mind  caught  reflections  and  then 
broke  them  up  like  a  fluid  surface,  and  all  that  really 
concerned  her  was  whether  Henry  would  leave  enough 
to  keep  her  comfortably.  She  began  to  wonder  if  she 
would  marry  again,  and  if  Willie  Baring  might  ever 
be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  husband.  After  a  time 
she  dismissed  the  idea.  She  felt  that  she  knew  him 
a  shade  too  well.  It  would  be  a  mistake  to  marry  an 
old  lover,  because  people  would  say  things,  certainly, 
and  also  a  stranger  —  again  her  mind  broke  up  the 

141 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

reflection,  and  she  recalled  Harvey's  eyes  and  hands. 
She  shook  her  head.  One  didn't  marry  doctors,  one 
called  them  in  when  one  was  ill.  There  was  a  very 
material  suggestion  about  the  medical  profession.  She 
pushed  her  narrow  feet  out  towards  the  fire  and  men- 
tally declined  to  ally  herself  matrimonially  with  her 
husband's  medical  adviser.  No  one  she  knew  had  ever 
made  such  a  mesalliance.  ]\ren  whose  profession  de- 
manded that  they  should  sit  beside  beds  were  not  to 
be  taken  seriously,  and  as  she  sat  thinking  she  saw  no 
very  definite  beacon  lighting  her  way  ahead.  It  ap- 
peared almost  necessary  to  marry  again,  because  the 
policy  of  drift  makes  for  eventual  isolation,  and  Lady 
Janover  detested  the  idea  of  being  "  carted  "  in  that 
respect.  Women  who  drifted  became  odd,  and  never 
heard  what  you  said  to  them,  or  remembered  names 
you  told  them,  or  knew  anything  about  anything  that 
was  happening  or  had  happened  during  the  last  ten 
years.  Then  also  it  was  impossible,  nearly  indecent, 
to  be  seen  about  without  a  man,  and  unless  you  married 
him  one  of  those  younger  people,  one  of  "  those  fools," 
got  hold  of  him,  or  he  grew  too  old  and  too  selfish  to 
be  of  much  use.  Lydia  Janover  got  up  and  studied 
herself  in  a  long  glass  at  the  end  of  the  drawing-room. 
Some  women,  if  their  husbands  lay  dying  in  the  house, 
would  look  at  their  reflections  and  know  that  their 
mouths  would  never  again  be  kissed,  and  that  the  word 
"  Love  "  would  be  eternally  erased  from  their  diction- 
ary. Death  would  take  in  one  moment  what  life  took 
after  years.  Lydia  Janover  shuddered  and  stared  at 
herself.  She  was  still  quite  beautiful  enough  to  make 
Harvey  thrill  and  flash  and  respond,  and  she  knew  that, 
rather  than  relinquish  her  right  to  the  ways  of  love, 

142 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

she  would  draw  him  into  her  life  even  if  she  all  but 
hated  him  and  his  black  bag  and  his  suave,  consolatory 
manner. 

It  was  like  Henry,  she  thought  with  sudden  anger, 
to  wait  on  and  on  until  she  had  lost  her  best  chances, 
to  wait  until  the  men  she  used  to  sway  were  beyond 
recall,  and  her  Simla  days  a  dream  of  a  passing  gen- 
eration. A  middle-aged  widow  was  a  pitiful  object, 
and  yet  she  had  been  so  wrapped  about  with  the  sem- 
blance of  love  that  it  hung  around  her  still.  She 
smiled  at  her  own  reflection,  but  in  spite  of  herself  she 
knew  that  summer  was  past  and  done. 

She  might  still  find  plenty  of  men  who  would  come 
and  praise  her  hands  and  her  hair  so  long  as  Henry 
lived ;  but  with  Henry  dead  she  was  as  dangerous  as 
any  debutante  to  the  man  who  had  no  idea  of  marry- 
ing. With  the  fall  of  the  insuperable  barrier,  Lydia 
Janover  lost  more  than  half  her  power,  and  the  shears 
were  busy  with  Samson's  locks.  Henry  had  been  her 
fortress,  her  guarded  approach.  Without  him  she  was 
in  the  position  of  seaside  lodgings  devoid  of  need  of 
assault  or  mystery.  Already  Willie  Baring  was  be- 
having as  if  she  were  holding  a  wedding  ring  behind 
her  back,  and  as  for  the  others,  she  realized  bitterly 
how  soon  they  would  adopt  the  same  language  of 
excuse.  No  man  ever  did  anything  he  didn't  want 
to  do ;  she  was  certain  of  that.  She  recalled  the  startled 
eyes  of  the  curate  whom  Henry  had  forcibly  declined 
to  interview  on  the  subject  of  his  soul;  and  she  thought 
with  a  sense  of  horror  of  her  own  death;  not  that  she 
feared  death,  for  Lydia  had  her  own  race  courage, 
but  only  because  she  saw  herself  at  the  end  with  no 
other   companionship    than    some    one    like    Henry's 

143 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

curate.  Harvey,  black  bag  and  all,  would  be  better 
than  isolation.  Even  if  the  other  women  laughed,  the 
women  whose  husbands  went  on  living  and  giving  them 
their  atmosphere  of  illusion,  it  wouldn't  matter  so 
much  as  other  things  could  matter.  Harvey  was  ten 
years  her  junior,  and  that  might  be  counted  as  a  score 
in  her  favour,  and  as  long  as  he  was  a  comparative 
stranger  the  touch  of  his  hand  could  give  her  a  faint 
thrill  of  adventure.  She  bit  her  lip  and  tried  to  think 
of  him  as  something  other  than  he  was.  lean,  dark,  and 
sleek  of  head,  smelling  slightly  of  disinfectants,  and 
terribly  polite.  How  Willie  Baring  would  laugh ;  but 
even  if  he  did  laugh  he  would  return  in  due  time,  and 
illusion  could  be  recaptured ;  the  barrier  would  remain. 
It  was  worth  thinking  of.  Harvey  with  his  smooth- 
ness and  his  way  of  bounding  to  the  sugar  bowl,  or 
bounding  to  the  door,  or  bounding  to  pick  up  anything 
and  everything  that  might  be  dropped  about,  would  be 
easy  enough  to  control.  It  would  be  horrid  to  be  a 
doctor's  wife,  but  at  least  doctors  with  a  large  practice 
could  be  trusted  to  be  out  of  the  house  the  best  part  of 
the  day  and  night.  Lady  Janover  smiled  once  more 
at  herself  and  strolled  back  to  the  fire.  She  had  made 
up  a  few  bits  of  her  mind  definitely,  and  the  future 
cleared  itself  of  doubt. 

Glancing  at  the  clock,  she  remembered  that  Marcus 
was  due  to  arrive  shortly,  and  she  rang  the  bell  and 
told  the  servant  to  make  up  the  fire. 

"  Mr.  Janover  has  arrived.  My  Lady,  and  has  gone 
up  to  the  master's  room,"  said  the  footman,  whose 
politeness  recalled  Harvey's  manner  and  caused  Lady 
Janover  to  stifle  a  smile. 

"  I  am  here  when  he  comes  down,"   she  replied, 

144 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

taking  up  a  book  and  seating  herself  in  a  low  chair 
near  a  shaded  lamp.  "If  Dr.  Harvey  calls  again  this 
evening,"  she  added,  "  show  him  in  here,  Tyles." 

Upstairs  Marcus  was  standing  beside  his  father's 
chair.  Sir  Henry  had  been  moved  from  his  bed,  and 
was  sitting,  propped  up,  by  the  blaze. 

"  They  could  only  give  me  a  day,"  said  Marcus  re- 
gretfully.    "I'm  sorr};.  Dad.  but " 

"  Then  they  want  you.  and  I  don't,"  said  Sir  Henry 
shortly,  signing  for  the  nurse  to  leave  them,     **  I  shall 

not  want  any  one  after  a  little  longer,  Marcus " 

His  voice  faltered  a  little.  "  I've  got  to  make  some- 
thing clear  to  you.     It  has  to  do  wdth  money." 

Marcus  looked  round  the  room  and  took  in  all  the 
details  of  its  careful  neatness,  its  preliminary  loss  of 
individuality,  its  suggestion  of  a  hospital  ward,  and  its 
lowered  light. 

"Why  worry  about  that  now.  Dad?"  he  asked, 
looking  at  the  strong  old  face  against  the  pillow  and 
noting  how  tensely  the  weakening  hands  gripped  the 
arms  of  the  invalid  chair. 

"  Because  you  must  know,  boy.  I've  been  thinking 
it  over.  It's  everything  to  you  to  have  enough  for 
you  to  go  on  where  you  are  for  the  next  three  years." 

Marcus  gave  a  slight  involuntary  start  in  spite  of 
himself.  If  money  was  such  a  question  as  to  resolve 
itself  into  the  mere  fact  of  being  enough  for  his  at- 
tacheship,  things  must  indeed  be  in  a  bad  way  in  Dean- 
ery Street. 

"  To  do  this,  Marcus,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  cut  down 
what  your  mother  is  likely  to  expect;  she  is  extrava- 
gant, as  you  know,  and  there  will  not  be  enough  for 
you  and  her."     He  paused  and  folded  his  hands  quietly 

145 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

one  over  the  other.     "  She  has  no  right  to  exact  what 

is  necessary  to  you,  and  I  am  leaving  it "     He 

coughed  and  breathed  hard.  "  I  am  putting  it  to  her 
as  strongly  as  I  can  in  a  letter  to  be  read  to  her  by  my 
executors,  that  for  three  years  she  will  make  provision 
for  you  out  of  the  settlement  I  made  upon  her  —  made 
in  the  days  when  —  well,  there  is  no  use  going  over 
old  ground."  He  looked  earnestly  at  his  son, 
"  There  should  have  been  ample,  but  I  failed  badly. 
The  will  was  there,  but  the  plans  miscarried.  Now  I 
am  forced  to  cast  your  future  to  the  chances  of  her 
having  a  conscience.''  Again  he  looked  at  Marcus. 
"  She  must  do  her  share." 

"  Don't  worry  about  me,  Dad."  Marcus  touched 
his  father's  hand  for  a  moment  with  his  own.  "  I  shall 
be  able  to  make  my  own  way  all  right.'' 

Sir  Henry  nodded  and  looked  at  the  red  heart  of 
the  fire. 

"  It  is  usually  so,"  he  said  in  an  abstracted  voice. 
"  It  is  nearly  always  a  woman  who  has  to  be  arbiter. 
Some  women  one  could  feel  sure  of,  but  Lydia  — 
Lydia  could  juggle  on  a  tombstone,  and  the  core  of  her 
is  as  hard  as  steel.  You  see,  Mark,  it  means  compara- 
tive poverty  for  her." 

"  Then  that  settles  it,"  Marcus  thought  inwardly, 
but  again  he  reassured  his  father.  That  moment  was 
not  the  moment  for  selfish  thought  or  selfish  repining 
and  he  spoke  cheerfully. 

"  Don't  give  it  a  thought,  it  is  perfectly  clear.  The 
Sheridans  are  Irish,  and  mother  has  the  sporting  in- 
stincts of  the  family." 

Sir  Henry's  face  lighted  with  a  bitter  smile. 

**  Her  brother  offered  to  toss  me   for  the  present 

146 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

terms  of  this  very  settlement,"  he  said  grimly,  "  and 
I  declined.  In  the  light  of  after-events  I  recognize 
my  error." 

Marcus  laughed  in  spite  of  himself,  and  called  up  a 
mental  vision  of  Hardress  making  the  offer  to  the 
stiff-necked  young  Englishman  who  was  about  to 
marry  his  sister.  He  could  see  it  all,  and  could  call 
up  the  picture  of  his  uncle's  face  as  he  made  the 
offer. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  beside  his  father's  chair  talk- 
ing to  him  and  telling  him  of  his  life. 

"  You  think  I  did  well  to  give  you  those  years  in 
Germany?"  asked  Sir  Henry  with  almost  passionate 
persistence. 

"  I  do  think  so,"  Marcus  said  slowly.  "  It  has 
added  to  my  value  and  is,  I  believe,  the  reason  why 
I  am  kept  on  in  Berlin.  Lord  Shawford  considers  me 
useful  there  at  the  present  time,  and  even  when  I  ex- 
plained to  him  the  urgent  necessity  for  leave,  he  still 
would  only  give  me  just  time  for  a  few  hours  in 
London." 

Sir  Henry  bowed  his  head  forward.  His  dim  eyes 
saw  massed  and  heavy  clouds  gathering  over  the  whole 
of  Europe. 

*'  Is  it  war?  "  he  asked  in  a  subdued  voice. 

"  I  believe  it  will  be  war,"  Marcus  replied  with  con- 
viction.    "  And  if  it  is,  it  is  not  far  off  now." 

"  Tomorrow  you  go  back."  Sir  Henry  sat  up  in 
his  chair  and  looked  at  the  man  whose  destiny  meant 
so  much  to  him.  "  At  least,  Marcus,  you  do  not  re- 
gret my  choice  of  your  future?  I  should  like  to  be 
sure  of  that." 

"  I   have   never   regretted   it,    Dad.     I   am   living. 

147 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Never  doubt  it.  Life  takes  one  up  queer  streets  now 
and  then,  but  I  am  not  wasting  my  time." 

"  Your  country  may  ask  for  your  life  yet,  but  life 
at  least  is  a  thing  we  never  grudge  to  pay.  I  gave  my 
brains,  ^lark,  and  the  demand  upon  you  may  be  a 
bigger  one." 

"  Whatever  is  asked  I  shall  give  if  what  I  have  is 
worth  giving."  Marcus  Janover's  eyes  lighted  as  he 
spoke.  "  Brains  such  as  mine  w-ouldn't  make  any  ap- 
preciable difference  to  the  balance  of  power,  but  if  it 
is  war  I  hope  to  do  my  share  with  a  rifle."  he  laughed. 
"  My  nerves  are  worth  more,  I  imagine.  Thank  God,  I 
think  I've  inherited  something  of  the  family  calm." 

"  You  had  better  see  your  mother  uefore  you  leave." 
Sir  Henry's  voice  was  weary,  and  Marcus  rose  to  go. 
"  You  may  influence  her,  Mark.  So  much  depends 
upon  what  she  thinks  fit  to  do  in  the  next  three  years." 

When  Marcus  Janover  went  into  his  mother's  draw- 
ing-room. Lady  Janover  was  interviewing  Dr.  Harvey 
at  what  seemed  to  her  son  unnecessarily  close  quarters. 
Harvey  was  obviously  awkward  upon  his  arrival,  and 
immediately  began  to  explain  that  he  was  waiting  to 
see  his  patient.  When  he  had  apologized  himself  as 
far  as  the  door  Lady  Janover  glided  swiftly  after  him, 
and  a  murmured  conversation  took  place  outside,  act- 
ing disagreeably  upon  the  mind  of  Marcus.  He  picked 
up  a  book  of  neurotic  poems  and  threw  it  on  to  the 
sofa  by  the  window,  knocking  over  a  bowl  of  roses 
with  it  as  it  fell. 

Just  at  that  moment  he  disliked  Lady  Janover  in- 
tensely, and  yet  he  was  there  to  propitiate  her,  since 
evidently  it  lay  with  her  to  close  the  gates  of  his  future. 
He  made  no  effort  to  replace  the  fallen  flowers,  and  the 

148 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

drip  of  spilled  water  filled  the  silence  lying  across  the 
murmur  of  voices  outside  the  door. 

After  a  few  minutes  Lady  Janover  came  back  and 
sat  down  gracefully  in  her  chair.  It  occurred  to  nei- 
ther of  them  that  no  greetings  had  passed  between 
them.  Lady  Janover's  eyes  were  bright  and  she  bit 
her  red  lips  as  she  smiled  under  her  lowered  lids. 

"  I  have  seen  father,"  said  Marcus  in  a  dry  voice, 
**  and  have  said  good-bye  to  him.  I  catch  an  early 
train  and  shall  not  disturb  him  before  I  leave." 

"  Poor  Harry."  His  mother's  voice  was  carefully 
subdued.     "  It  will  leave  an  awful  blank." 

"  He  is  worrying  about  money  matters."  Marcus 
sat  down,  his  hands  clasped  between  his  knees  and  his 
eyes  on  the  carpet.  "  I  don't  think  he  ought  to  have 
anything  on  his  mind,  and  that  is  why  I  feel  it  may 
be  best  for  us  to  —  well,  to  come  to  some  sort  of  un- 
derstanding." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  worry  him,"  replied  Lady 
Janover.  her  eyes  hardening.  "  Loss  of  money  won't 
much  matter  to  your  poor  father.  I  know  nothing 
of  his  affairs." 

"  He  tells  me,"  Marcus  spoke  very  carefully,  "  that 
your  settlement  will  take  everything  there  is,  and  it  is 
on  my  account  that  he  is  anxious.  He  thinks  I  may 
have  to  give  up  the  Diplomatic.  Unfortunately  I  shall 
not  be  independent  for  some  time." 

"  That  is  unfortunate,"  agreed  Lady  Janover,  nar- 
rowing her  eyes.  "  You  see,  Mark,  even  the  settle- 
ment money  only  just  keeps  one's  head  above  water. 
This  house  can't  be  run  on  air.  In  fact,  I  shall  have 
to  give  it  up  if  things  are  as  bad  as  you  say." 

"  I  see."     Marcus  stood  up  and  leaned  against  the 

149 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

mantelpiece ;  he  looked  at  her  very  directly  as  he  spoke, 
"  I  think  I  should  not  ask  you  to  do  anything  for  me 
if  I  was  not  fully  aware  that  my  father  wished  me  to. 
If  I  left  without  asking  you  if  you  are  prepared  to  do 
anything  I  should  always  feel  that  I  had  evaded  an 
unpleasant  necessity.  Mother,  do  you  realize  that  if 
I  have  only  about  a  hundred  a  year,  which  is  all  I  can 
count  on,  my  training  is  wasted?  " 

Lady  Janover  pinched  her  lips. 

"  I  was  always  against  all  this  Germanic  fad.  After 
all,  Marcus,  there  are  other  things  a  man  can  do." 

"  With  training,  yes.     But " 

"  And  you  must  know  heaps  of  influential  people. 
A  parliamentary  secretaryship,  for  instance,  would  be 
every  bit  as  good,  and  could  be  got  if  you  tried  to 
work  it." 

"  Oh,  I  might  cadge  a  job.''  The  ice  of  anger  pene- 
trated his  voice.  "  But  there  is  one's  ambition.  I 
know  it  is  rather  useless  to  allude  to  it.  As  it  happens, 
the  Germanic  fad,  as  you  call  it,  is  my  chief  stand-by 
where  I  am." 

*'  Then  if  you  are  so  useful  it  is  ridiculous  nof  to  be 
paid  for  it,'  said  Lady  Janover.  "If  they  felt  they 
might  lose  you  they  might  offer  you  something  better.' 

Marcus  closed  his  sensitive  mouth  firmly  and  kept 
silence. 

"  You  see,  Mark  dear,"  Lady  Janover's  voice  took 
a  sugary  note,  "  I  don't  know  what  /  can  very  well 
promise.  It  would  all  depend  on  what  I  had  left  over 
when  these  dreadful  expenses  are  paid.  And  aren't 
there  those  terrible  death  duties?  And  there  will  be 
yards  of  other  things  to  pay  —  I  am  so  afraid  of  mak- 
ing any  definite  arrangement,  but  of  course  I  would 

ICO 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

simply  live  on  potato  skins  and  milk  rather  than  dis- 
appoint you  and  poor  Harry." 

Still  Marcus  said  nothing. 

"  I'd  just  love  to  feel  that  I  could  say  straight  away, 
'  Take  it  all,  every  penny  of  it/  but  then  there  is  this 
hateful  fact  that  one  must  live." 

"  It  hardly  seems  worth  discussing,"  said  Marcus 
shortly.  "  Don't  let  us  go  over  it.  Mother.  The 
simple  fact  is  that  you  don't  see  your  way,  and  with 

regard  to  my  own  future "     He  made  an  almost 

imperceptible  movement  with  his  shoulders. 

"Lord  Shaw  ford  could  get  you  into  Somerset 
House,"  suggested  Lady  Janover,  toying  idly  with  her 
chain.  "  London  must  be  far  nicer  than  Berlin.  I 
should  ask  him,  Mark;  and  then,"  again  her  voice  grew 
sweet.  "  I  should  have  you  near  me."  She  was  ob- 
viously listening  for  steps  on  the  outer  stair. 

Marcus  lifted  his  chin. 

"  You  had  better  tell  Harvey  to  make  it  clear  to 
father  that  tilings  are  arranged  as  he  wished." 

"  If  you  think  so " 

**  I  should  like  his  mind  to  be  at  rest  about  it.  As 
far  as  you  and  I  are  concerned,  Mother,  subterfuge  is 
hardly  necessary."  He  bent  his  strong  eyes  upon  her. 
"  You  can  put  all  that  aside.  What  you  do  in  the 
future  or  what  I  may  do  will  not  be  a  matter  that  con- 
cerns either  you  or  me." 

Lady  Janover  fired  up  suddenly. 

"  For  years,"  she  said  vindictively,  "  your  father 
has  spoken  to  me  in  the  same  way  as  you  speak  now. 
He  has  bullied  me,  and  tried  to  break  me.  I  did  not 
allow  him  to  break  me,  and  I  assure  you,  Marcus,  that 
what  I  did  not  permit  your  father  to  do  I  will  not 

151 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

endure  from  you.  You  have  a  hundred  a  year,  and 
thousands  were  spent  on  your  education.  If  you  had 
any  pride  you  should  be  glad  to  be  independent,  and 
yet,"  she  rose  to  her  feet,  "  you  are  evidently  prepared 
to  accept  far  more  than  you  could  ever  expect  from 
mc." 

Marcus  walked  to  the  door. 

"  I  expected  exactly  what  I  got,"  he  said  indiffer- 
ently. "  Had  you  said  anything  but  what  you  have 
said  I  should  have  been  very  greatly  surprised." 

He  closed  the  door  behind  him  almost  gently,  and 
Lady  Janover  stood  looking  after  him.  After  a  min- 
ute she  glanced  away,  and  her  eyes  met  her  own  mir- 
rored reflection  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  She 
looked  towards  it  lovingly,  and  with  her  easy,  drifting 
walk  came  to  meet  herself.  She  had  already  begun 
to  forget  Marcus  and  his  unpleasant  way  of  .'^peaking, 
and  she  returned  to  the  joy  of  realizing  that  Harvey, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  not  at  all  sur  la  mcvtc 
assicttc  as  her  former  friends,  was  able  for  the  moment 
to  blow  upon  the  ashes  and  bring  forth  a  little  tingling 
flame  of  interest.  That  was  how  Lydia  invariably 
scored.  She  had  indeed  much  to  thank  her  tempera- 
ment for.  even  if.  in  the  wider  issues  of  life,  if  might 
be  regarded  as  slightly  disastrous. 


152 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHEN  Marcus  Janover  was  faced  by  any  partic- 
ularly acute  crisis  in  his  life,  the  longing  for 
immediate  action  became  a  crying  necessity.  He  saw 
before  him  the  one  thing  that  had  to  be  done,  the  one 
sudden  shearing  down  of  all  his  ambitions,  the  one 
inevitable  act  that  shut  the  door  with  a  bang  in  the 
face  of  his  hopes.  After  that  was  accomplished  he 
proposed  to  think  out  some  scheme  of  life  that  might 
offer  possibilities  of  interest,  and  he  told  himself  that 
having  cleared  the  way  of  all  cherished  ideals,  there 
was  still  a  future  of  action  for  a  man  with  a  fine  con- 
stitution and  a  steady  aim  with  a  rifle. 

As  he  walked  towards  his  Chief's  house,  hastening 
to  put  the  inevitable  interview  behind  him,  he  tried 
to  find  comfort  in  the  fact  that  honour  is  a  better  thing 
than  fame,  and  that  a  man  marching  in  the  ranks,  with 
a  by  no  means  uncertain  prospect  of  war  before  him, 
might  easily  intensify  the  zest  of  life  to  a  degree  un- 
guessed  by  statesmen  and  diplomatists.  There  would 
be  a  very  definite  reward  in  such  a  life,  even  though 
he  knew  nimself  to  be  an  instrument  made  for  other 
purposes.  All  the  subtlety  and  all  the  skill  and  all 
the  queer  intoxicating  excitements  of  the  game  which 
poverty  was  about  to  force  him  to  leave  could  only  be 
replaced  by  something  so  full  of  the  thrill  of  danger 
that  he  might  forget  the  tenser  joys  of  mental  conflict. 

As  he  walked  (|uickly  along  the  wide  street  his  mind 
craved  for  the  thunder  of  guns  —  that  ominous  fateful 

153 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

thunder  which  those  of  his  own  house  were  straining 
every  nerve  to  postpone  or  avoid. 

He  looked  back  at  the  towering  Dom,  and  a  slight 
shiver  touched  him.  His  depression  was  gone,  and  he 
felt  strangely  elated.  Now  and  then  there  can  be  a 
curious  secret  joy  in  the  knowledge  that  things  are 
not  what  they  seem,  and  the  wind  of  the  spirit  stirred 
and  exalted  him.  Von  der  Schultz,  passing  in  a  regal 
car,  hailed  him  cheerfully,  and  shouted  a  raucous 
"  IVie  gcht  es,  Mark?  "  as  he  sped  past. 

Lord  Shaw  ford  had  expected  to  see  Marcus  Jan- 
over  at  the  exact  hour  when  he  actually  arrived,  for 
the  simple  reason  that  Marcus  had  never  yet  been  late 
upon  any  pretext,  and  even  if  his  father  were  dying 
—  that  hardly  seemed  to  count  just  then  to  Lord  Shaw- 
ford,  who  was  not  in  a  mood  to  consider  the  question 
of  dying  parents. 

A  huge  fire  burned  in  the  grate;  Lord  Shawford 
objected  to  the  Teutonic  stove.  "  An  infernal  thing 
that  stews  your  brains,"  he  said ;  "  I  hate  the  sight  of 
them,"  and  before  the  fire  Lord  Shawford  stood  es- 
tablished with  the  fixity  of  fate,  his  hair  rumpled  and 
his  mouth  more  than  usually  depressed  at  the  corners. 
When  Marcus  came  in,  he  nodded  to  him  abruptly  and 
told  him  to  sit  down. 

"  Things  are  travelling,"  he  said,  lifting  his  heavy 
shoulders,  "  not  at  the  rate  of  a  whole  gale,  but  fast 
enough.  They  won't  send  Von  der  Schultz  to  Eng- 
land." 

"Have  circumstances  changed?"  Marcus  looked 
up. 

"  Yes."  Lord  Shawford  spoke  curtly.  "  In  so  far 
that  the  aggressive  attitude  is  not  what  is  needed  by 

154 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

our  friends  up  the  Strasse.  If  you  hold  out  your 
cheek  to  the  smiter  and  call  him  a  damned  fool  at  the 
same  time,  it's  sometimes  more  politic  than  getting  him 
in  the  jaw  yourself  in  the  first  instance." 

Marcus  waited  for  a  few  moments.  He  had  to 
think  carefully  over  what  he  was  going  to  say,  and 
then,  as  Lord  Shaw  ford  crossed  the  room  and  sat  down 
at  his  table,  he  stiffened  his  shoulders  and  stood  up, 
the  great  fire  roaring  behind  him.  At  first  when  he 
spoke  he  could  see  that  his  Chief  was  too  preoccupied 
to  listen,  but  suddenly,  as  though  the  full  extent  of  his 
statement  struck  him  forcibly,  Lord  Shaw  ford  turned 
on  his  revolving  chair  and  stared  at  his  young  attache. 

"  You  are  telling  me  that  you  are  forsaking  your 
career,  and  at  this  hour?  "  he  asked. 

"  Rather  that  it  is  forsaking  me,"  replied  Marcus, 
his  mouth  twisted  slightly  as  he  spoke. 

"  Money  bfeing  the  obstacle?  " 

Marcus  said  nothing;  a  quick  pain  touched  his  heart. 

"  I  see,"  said  Lord  Shaw  ford  slowly,  his  eyes  low- 
ered. 

The  silence  in  the  room  grew  suddenly  tense,  and 
Marcus  Janover  waited,  listening  to  the  tick  of  the 
clock  on  the  mantelpiece  behind  him.  After  what 
seemed  an  interminable  pause,  Lord  Shaw  ford  spoke 
again. 

"  A  choice  is  sometimes  most  difficult."  He  spoke, 
as  it  seemed  to  Marcus,  more  to  himself  than  to  him. 
"  Janover,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  do  something  that 
it  is  not  easy  to  ask  of  you." 

Marcus  flushed  slightly.  "  Here,"  he  thought, 
"  comes  this  infernal  offer  of  money,  which  I  will 
never  accept." 

155 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  I  may  as  well  tell  you  candidly  "  —  Lord  Shaw- 
ford  spoke  more  quickly,  and  his  eyes  softened  a  little 
—  "  that  I  find  you,  and  have  found  you,  very  useful. 
I  know  your  special  qualifications  better  than  you  know 
them  yourself,  and  you  are  and  you  can  be  so  use- 
ful as  to  be  invaluable  to  the  interests  of  your 
country." 

He  got  up  from  his  chair  and  paced  the  room  very 
slowly. 

"  Your  knowledge  of  Germany  is  intuitive  as  well 

as   thorough,   and "     He   broke   off,   and   stood 

facing  Marcus.  "  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  do  some- 
thing that  is  harder  for  me  to  ask,  and  that  will  be 
harder  for  you  to  agree  to,  than  anything  I  can  express. 
Will  you,  under  the  existing  conditions,  undertake  a 
form  of  secret  service  which  is  unlike  any  that  we 
have  it  in  our  power  to  employ?  " 

For  one  moment  Marcus  felt  as  if  he  had  been  struck 
between  the  eyes,  and  he  met  Lord  Shaw  ford's  direct 
glance  with  a  flash  of  quick  refusal. 

"  Wait,"  said  Lord  Shaw  ford,  laying  his  hand  on 
Marcus  Janover's  shoulder,  "  I  do  not  intend  to  gloze 
this  suggestion  over.  I  am  going  to  be  brutally  frank. 
*  Spying  '  is  an  ugly  word,  and  the  men  and  women 
who  spy  are  not  a  corps  d'clite;  but,  at  a  time  like  this, 
the  man  who  can  live  entirely  within  the  inner  circle, 
and  who  holds  the  confidence  of  those  who  are  working 
night  and  day  against  us,  is  doing  a  service  that  is. 
beyond  all  reckoning,  more  useful  than  any  other  he 
can  render.  H  you  are  that  man,  Janover,  what  right 
have  you  to  refuse  the  work  ?  " 

Marcus  did  not  move ;  his  hurt  defiant  face  was  set 
like  a  mask,  and  his  eyes  never  left  Lord  Shawford's 

156 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

face.     Once  again  the  older  man  returned  to  his  table 
and  sat  leaning  forward  on  his  elbows. 

"  If  I  was  able  to  offer  you  a  chance  to  go  ahead 
towards  recognition,  I  should  gladly  do  so.  Of  all 
the  younger  men,  Janover,  I  would  rather  see  you  with 
such  a  chance ;  but,"  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "  what 
I  offer  you  has  no  reward  attached  to  it.  I  am  asking 
you  to  undertake  a  mission  that  imposes  terms  upon 
you  that  are  simply  damnable  if  you  achiev^e  them,  and, 
if  you  fail,  you  get  a  black  handkerchief  round  your 
eyes  and  a  shooting  party  at  dawn."  He  cleared  his 
throat  violently.  *'  Such  being  the  case,  you  can  con- 
clude that  my  calling  upon  you  and  making  this  de- 
mand is  not  done  without  due  consideration.  For 
some  months  I  have  wondered  if  any  circumstances 
would  arise  to  make  it  possible." 

Marcus  spoke  at  last,  and  his  voice  was  very  clear  — 
"  I  cannot  accept." 

Lord  Shaw  ford  held  up  his  hand. 

"  Janover,  here  in  Germany,  as  you  know,  there 
is  no  such  word  as  *  I.'  All  moral  and  ethical  justifica- 
tion is  waived  aside,  and  that  mood,  that  deep  relentless 
conviction,  is  what  England,  asleep  behind  her  seas, 
will  shortly  have  to  arise  and  fight.  I  cannot  com- 
mand you  to  undertake  what  your  own  conscience  re- 
jects, but  I  can  at  least  tell  you  this  —  "  his  hand  on 
the  writing  table  clenched  quickly — *'  If  you  recognize 
the  power  of  the  forces  now  gathering,  and  if  you 
refuse  by  any  means  that  lies  within  you  to  aid  your 
country,  ask  yourself  honestly  if  the  knowledge  that 
your  hands  are  as  clean  at  Pontius  Pilate's  will  be  of 
comfort  to  you  on  the  day  when  Germany  attains  her 
aspiration." 

157 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Janover  gripped  his  hands  together. 

"  It  means  Hving  a  he,"  he  said  slowly.  "  It  means 
selling  men  who  think  me  honest.  It  means  that 
every  day  I  should  have  to  deny  my  birthright 
and  stand  as  an  outcast  even  in  the  eyes  of  the  men 
whom  I  am  there  to  betray.  Good  God,  sir,  what  have 
I  ever  done  that  you  should  single  me  out  for  such  a 
part  as  that?" 

The  pain  in  his  voice  reached  the  remote  place  where 
Lord  Shawford  stood  above  personal  consideration. 

"  I  am  fully  aware  of  all  you  say,"  he  said,  "  and 
yet  in  spite  of  that,  Janover,  I  retract  nothing.  The 
fact  persists,  whatever  may  be  urged  against  it.  You 
have  friends  among  the  Chauvinists ;  you  have  the 
natural  gift  of  adaptability,  which  is  unquestionably 
necessary.  There  is  no  need  to  force  entrance  in  your 
case ;  you  walk  in  accredited.  I  am  not  asking  you  to 
sell  yourself,  Janover,  I  ask  you  to  give  yourself." 

Marcus  walked  to  the  window.  This  was  what 
life  had  for  him  as  the  ultimate  destiny;  this  was  to 
be  his  metier,  and  the  valiant  way  of  the  sword,  the 
path  of  dignity  and  honour,  was  to  be  closed  against 
him,  and  instead  this  murky  back  way,  a  way  leading 
abruptly  from  all  social  decency  and  honour.  Life 
without  promise  and  without  beauty,  with  a  possibility 
of  death  led  up  to  by  a  whole  army  of  lies  until  he 
reached  a  point  where  some  one  who  had  the  wit  not 
to  trust  him  caught  him  at  the  dirty  game  of  cheating. 
No  "  clean  roses,"  no  martyr's  monument,  nothing  but 
a  mission  of  betrayal,  to  be  carried  through  with  a 
laugh. 

Behind  him,  he  could  hear  Lord  Shawford's  pen 
scraping  over  a  sheet  of  paper;  his  Chief  was  giving 

158 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

him  time,  he  was  well  aware,  and  he  was  equally  de- 
termined to  give  himself  time. 

He  thought  of  Hesper,  and  of  the  look  that  would 
come  into  her  eyes  if  she  knew;  and  almost  at  once 
his  thought  travelled  from  her  to  Eitel.  Women  were 
strange,  incomprehensible  people,  and  it  was  just  dimly 
possible  that  Hesper  might  understand;  but  what  of 
Eitel  von  Verlhof  ? 

Silence  could  intervene  between  him  and  Hesper  and 
cover  his  love  with  a  decent  burial.  He  would  not  be 
asked  to  take  her  hand  and  look  her  in  the  eyes,  but 
with  his  friend  it  would  of  necessity  be  far  otherwise. 
All  the  youth  in  him  cried  out  for  Romance  and  the 
glamour  of  a  Quest,  and  all  the  egotist  within  fought 
against  the  oblivion  of  this  crooked  way.  Never  be- 
fore had  Marcus  Janover  felt  himself  so  qualified  to 
follow  a  clear  wide  path  out  through  an  open  land,  and 
never  before  had  he  so  intensely  realized  how  much 
he  had  expected  of  himself  and  how  much  had  been 
expected  of  him  by  others.  In  his  own  way  he  had 
stood  for  something  firm  and  earnest  —  something  that 
meant  much  and  faced  towards  the  East,  where  lay  a 
dawn  of  a  wider  day.  He  had  made  the  great  refusal 
of  the  mere  illusions  of  life,  he  had  been  governed  by 
an  abiding  purpose,  and  his  spirit  had  yearned  intensely 
to  bequeath  great  memories  to  others  who  came  after. 
With  his  elbows  on  the  window-sash  he  thought  stead- 
ily of  all  this. 

To  be  forced  to  renounce  was  hard,  and  when  he 
had  accepted  renunciation  he  had  suffered  very  much, 
but  his  quick  fancy  had  provided  him  with  an  alter- 
native that  was  locked  into  his  boy's  dreams  of  years 
behind.     Now  this  cup  was  not  for  his  drinking,  and 

159 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

instead  his  metier  was  allotted  to  him,  pointing  him 
down  a  hidden  way,  and  making  him  for  ever  a  disciple 
of  Betrayal.  He  had  never  trained  his  mind  to  see 
the  world  in  a  mass.  It  revealed  itself  always  in  mi- 
nute detail,  which  compelled  him  to  know  actualities  as 
they  literally  were.  He  vivSualized  his  career  as  a 
thoroughly  successful  spy,  and  his  strange  inward  con- 
sciousness of  his  own  powder  to  simulate  informed  him 
that  Lord  Shaw  ford  was  certainly  not  speaking  at  ran- 
dom. His  other  self  stirred,  and  Marcus  Janover's 
eyes  hardened  and  narrowed.  He  was  to  release  this 
otlier  self  if  he  was  to  accept  Lord  Shaw  ford's  sug- 
gestion, and  the  game,  however  vile,  would  be  amaz- 
ingly exciting,  so  that  conscience  could  be  slaughtered. 
He  was  on  the  threshold  of  the  great  productive  pe- 
riod of  his  life,  and  his  freshness  and  buoyancy  which 
were  meant  to  give  wings  were  to  give  a  devilish  touch 
of  conviction  to  his  part.  The  art  of  cheating  —  Mar- 
cus shut  his  mouth  tightly  into  a  tense  line.  No  one 
living  could  ask  Eitel  von  Verlhof  to  cheat,  or  Reyn- 
olds, or  a  dozen  others  he  could  think  of.  There  were 
other  men  who  knew  the  country  as  well  as  he  did,  but 
they  would  not  be  asked. 

"  Young  men  see  visions  and  old  men  dream 
dreams,"  said  Lord  Shaw  ford  without  raising  his  head, 
**  but  the  greatest  obsession  of  all  is  the  obsession  of 
National  superiority.  The  Germans  have  their  Auf- 
richtigkeit,  Janover,  and  the  greatness  of  Prussia  is 
above  everything." 

Marcus  laughed  a  quick  hard  laugh. 

"And  they  have  the  sword  of  Sigurd." 

"  And,"  added  Lord  Shaw  ford.  "  the  day  of  reck- 
oning with  England,     Think  again,  Janover." 

i6o 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"Is  there  no  other  way?"  Marcus  spoke  impul- 
sively and  almost  violently. 

"  There  are  always  a  hundred  other  ways,"  replied 
Lord  Shawford,  throwing  down  his  pen.  "  To  a  man 
of  big  promise  and  marked  capacity  the  ways  are 
many.  It  is  not  a  question  of  how  many  for  you,  it 
remains  merely  a  question  of  the  thing  itself.  I  told 
you  I  offered  you  a  career  of  disaster,  devoid  of  tri- 
umphs and  glories,  but  at  the  same  time  a  career  of 
very  extensive  usefulness.  If  you  decline,  I  have 
no  one  who  may  replace  5''ou."  He  paused  for 
a  moment  and  laid  his  big  hands  flat  on  the  blotting- 
paper  before  him.  "  Renunciation  is  a  hard  word 
to  swallow  at  your  age.  and  I  know  that  you  are 
ambitious.  Heroism  and  the  doing  of  great  things 
is  a  young  man's  dream,  but  there  is  also  the  way  of 
self-cflfacement,  and  the  way  that  tells  a  man  to  live 
and  work,  and  not  always  to  die  for  others." 

Still  Marcus  said  nothing;  but  his  eyes  were  re- 
proachful, and  Lord  Shawford  looked  at  him  keenly. 
He  saw  in  the  younger  man's  face  the  foreshadowing 
of  that  strange  still  strength  that  made  it  fit  for  suf- 
fering; Janover  was  half  defiant  and  hurt,  but  his  es- 
timate, he  felt,  would  be  inevitably  just.  This  was 
the  man  who  Lord  Shawford  knew  could  move  men's 
minds,  and  bring  thought  to  its  volcanic  birth.  Jan- 
over promised  perpetually,  wherever  he  found  himself, 
that  was  his  supreme  value. 


16I 


CHAPTER  XIV 

VON  DER  SCHULTZ  was  sitting  alone  in  his 
room,  thinking  ferociously.  He  had  had  a  little 
trouble  with  Lisbeth  and  a  little  trouble  with  Ursule. 
Ursule  was  volcanic,  and  there  were  times  when 
the  placidity  of  Lisbeth  appealed  to  Von  der  Schultz 
as  a  pleasant  contrast;  moreover,  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  Lisbeth,  and  though  necessity,  combined 
with  inclination,  made  it  more  acceptable  to  him 
to  receive  Ursule  to  a  certain  extent  into  his  affections, 
he  wished  that  the  paternal  Government  of  the  country 
had  not  decided  that  he  was  to  pay  and  exploit  that 
lady,  and  to  keep  her  at  all  costs  from  the  attentions 
of  a  more  than  suspected  Italian  Count,  and  an  at- 
tractive young  Roumanian  who  lingered  at  the  Em- 
bassy and  exhibited  his  fascinations  wherever  society 
was  gathered  together. 

If  Ursule  became  foolish,  Ursule  would  suffer,  but 
so  also  might  Von  der  Schultz.  He  had  managed 
women  extensively  for  years,  and  he  knew  their  ways, 
or  he  believed  he  did ;  and  in  dealing  with  women  in  the 
game  of  politics  it  is  necessary  that  the  man  who  un- 
dertakes to  make  use  of  them  as  a  means  towards  an 
end  must  have  special  gifts. 

Von  der  Schultz  was  well  used  to  asserting  his  sway, 
and  his  reputation  assisted  him;  he  was  qans  in  der 
Mode,  and  his  suppers  the  noisiest  in  Berlin. 

Ursule  had  been  in  the  pay  of  many  officials,  and 

162 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

was  cosmopolitan;  she  had  been  loved  to  distraction 
by  a  French  artillery  general,  who  shot  himself,  as 
some  said,  because  his  heart  was  broken  by  her  infidel- 
ity, and,  others  believed,  because  he  preferred  death 
by  his  own  hand  to  a  court-martial  on  account  of  a 
betrayed  secret. 

The  paternal  Government  did  not  as  yet  trust  Ursule 
entirely;  she  had  a  potential  value,  and  Von  der 
Schultz,  when  he  saw  her,  decided  that  the  matter 
might  be  considered  his  affair.  She  was  entirely  mer- 
cenary, entirely  wicked,  and  most  amusing  as  a  com- 
panion, besides  being,  if  not  beautiful,  quite  bizarre 
enough  to  be  seen  about  with. 

Von  der  Schultz  progressed  serenely  enough  as  far 
as  Ursule  was  concerned,  until  he  made  the  annoying 
discovery  that  he  preferred  Lisbeth,  who  understood 
him,  to  Ursule  who  expected  him  to  understand  her. 

Earlier  in  the  day  Von  der  Schultz,  who  had  driven 
her  down  the  Siegesallee,  had  all  but  quarrelled  with 
his  kleines  Schatzchcn,  and  she  had  not  shown  any 
docility  whatever  when  he  warned  her  that  she  must 
be  quiet  and  remain  contentedly  in  her  flat.  The  pas- 
time of  Satan  appealed  to  her,  and  she  talked  of  the 
gates  of  Bagdad  and  other  distant  and  alluring  spots. 
Von  der  Schultz  retorted  with  his  laugh  that  she  was 
a  pert,  leaping,  jumping  flea,  and  that  he  had  her  safe 
between  his  thumb  and  finger.  For  a  moment  Ursule's 
appreciation  of  his  wit  appeared  to  desert  her,  and  she 
told  him  with  great  energy  that  she  was  not  a  tame 
woman ;  and  she  had  spoken  lightly  of  the  opera,  of 
crowned  heads,  and  of  other  cherished  institutions. 
All  this  had  shocked  Von  der  Schultz  and  disgusted 
him.     Lisbeth,  in  contrast  to  this  well-dressed  vagrant, 

163 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

in  all  essential  points  was  so  different,  so  respectable, 
so  calm. 

Nothing  in  the  world  is  so  annoying  as  to  be  forced 
to  think  of  some  small  irritating  circumstance  when 
you  wish  to  concentrate  upon  great  events  and  great 
subjects. 

Von  der  Schultz  had  great  things  to  consider  as  he 
sat  in  his  room,  and  yet  Ursule  haunted  his  imagina- 
tion. All  the  soldier  in  him  was  thrilling  with  the 
progress  of  events,  and  he  v/as  impatient  for  the  fu- 
ture, for  the  dawn  of  the  great  prepared  day.  and  for 
the  quick,  terrible  war  that  was  to  follow.  The  grand, 
dark,  indefinite  future  held  food  for  thought ;  but  as 
he  had  described  Ursule  as  a  flea,  he  was  irked  by  her 
rankling  speech  of  the  earlier  hours,  and  he  stopped 
every  now  and  then  to  construct  fresh  phrases  by  which 
he  would  (|uell  her  when  they  met  again. 

A  map  lay  open  on  the  table  before  him,  and  he 
studied  it  with  intense  and  anxious  care,  hastily  scrib- 
bling a  note  across  the  little  patch  indicating  Luxem- 
burg. 

Von  der  Schultz  stood  up  and  drank,  and  paced  his 
room  for  a  time.  One  long  window  opened  out  into 
the  garden,  and  suddenly,  as  though  his  quick  ear  heard 
a  sound  beyond,  he  stepped  back  to  the  table  and  threw 
his  pearl-grey  coat  over  the  open  map.  It  only  took 
him  a  moment,  and  almost  at  once  he  turned  the  handle 
and  opened  the  window. 

The  cold  wind  of  twilight  hit  him  in  the  face,  and 
he  stepped  back  as  he  saw  some  one  coming  towards 
him.  It  was  very  unusual  for  his  visitors  to  make 
their  entrance  by  the  garden,  and  in  the  darkness  he 

164 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

could  not  make  certain  whom  he  was  about  to  receive. 
His  nerves  were  jarred,  and  he  spoke  irritably. 

"  You're  damned  polite,  Hans,"  answered  a  voice 
he  knew.  "  I've  come  round  to  get  a  drink  before  I 
go  to  join  the  Russian  Army,  or  the  Legion  Etrangere 
—  or " 

Von  der  Schultz  held  out  his  hand  enthusiastically. 

"  Mein  Gott!  It  is  Mark  Janover!  Come  in  then, 
Mark,  and  you  shall  drink.  I  have  not  yet  seen  you 
drunk."  He  opened  the  door  wide.  "  That  would 
be  a  sight,  zvasf  " 

Marcus  passed  him  and  flung  himself  into  the  room. 
His  face  was  ashy  w^hite,  and  his  eyes  let  out  the  vio- 
lence of  his  soul  so  markedly  that  Von  der  Schultz 
stared  at  him  with  something  akin  to  dismay ;  he  hardly 
noticed  that  Marcus  sat  down  on  the  coat  that  lay  over 
the  table  where  his  map  was  spread.  Marcus  had 
driven  maps  from  his  mind  for  the  moment,  and  he 
realized  that  something  very  unusual  must  have  hap- 
pened. 

"  Stop  staring  at  me,  Hans,  for  God's  sake,  and  get 
me  a  drink."  Marcus  leaned  back  on  his  hands  and 
laughed.  "  And  we'll  drink  to  Liberty  again,  and  oh, 
my  God,  to  the  price  of  Liberty." 

Von  der  Schultz  poured  him  out  a  drink.  He  had 
always  liked  Janover,  and  had  always  looked  for  un- 
expected things  from  him.  He  had  not  the  least  doubt 
in  his  mind  that  Marcus  was  living  through  some  acute 
and  tremendous  crisis,  and  he  felt  the  sense  of  his 
own  rightness  of  judgment  in  things  psychological 
when  he  considered  that  he  had  foretold  this  for  many 
months. 

165 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Thank  you,  Hans."  Marcus  took  the  glass  from 
his  host.  "  Here's  to  my  damnation,  and  Am  Tag, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

Von  der  Schultz  sat  down  in  a  low  chair.  It  was 
unfortunate  that  Marcus  had  chosen  the  table,  and  in 
his  present  mood  he  might  at  any  instant  sweep  the  coat 
away  and  look  at  the  map,  which  Von  der  Schultz  had 
no  desire  that  he  should  see.  Marcus  had  good  eye- 
sight, and  Von  der  Schultz  wrote  a  clear  hand.  He 
decided  to  wait  until  Marcus  might  be  induced  to  take 
a  more  conventional  seat,  and  meanwhile  his  curiosity 
got  the  better  of  all  other  considerations. 

"  I've  got  the  push."  Marcus  set  down  his  glass, 
which  he  had  hardly  tasted,  at  the  edge  of  the  table. 
"  They've  no  further  use  for  me  at  His  Britannic  Ma- 
jesty's Embassy." 

"Mcin  Goti." 

"  It  is  '  Mcin  Gott '  ;  you've  sized  it  up.  Hans.  I'm 
on  the  move  now,  and  come,  for  the  sake  of  all  the 
suppers  we've  had  together,  to  say  good-bye." 

"  But  '  no  further  use,'  '  the  push  '  —  why  ?  " 

"  The  usual  reason  given  to  the  men  of  my  country 
when  they  want  something  they  can't  have.  Too  much 
brains  and  too  little  money,"  he  spoke  suddenly  and 
fiercely.  "Do  you  know  that  ass  Reynolds?  The 
fellow  with  the  serious  red  face  and  a  manner  like  a 
sick  owl?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Von  der  Schultz  eagerly,  "  a  true- 
born  Englishman  —  I  have  often  noticed  him." 

"  He  and  I  stand  equal  as  to  time,  but  if  I  thought 

any  other  equality  existed "     Marcus  broke  off. 

'*  Anyhow  he  has  been  put  over  my  head,  and  he  has 
got  something  that  was  practically  promised  to  me  — 

i66 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

I  know  one  should  stand  down  and  take  it  smiling,  and 
I  tried  to  smile  pleasantly." 

There  was  a  silence,  and  Von  der  Schultz  waited 
with  patience.  In  a  little  time  !vlarcus  Janover  would 
go  on  again,  and  far  away  a  nebulous  idea  began  to 
form  in  his  brain. 

"  Zol"  he  said  in  purring  guttural,  and  again 
"  Zo?" 

'"  My  father,  who  gave  his  life's  work  to  England, 
is  dead,"  went  on  Marcus,  his  face  turning  a  shade 
more  grey.  "  He  died  a  poor  man,  and  I  have  about 
enough  to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  but  not  enough 
for  ruffling  it  in  the  Diplomatic  Corps." 

He  put  one  hand  up  to  his  face  and  shaded  his  eyes 
as  he  threw  out  the  words  with  contemptuous  bitter- 
ness. "  So  you  must  not  be  astonished.  Hans,  if  I  am 
a  little  less  patriotic  at  this  moment  than  I  might  be 
if  I  was  a  saint  first  and  a  human  being  after.  I  had 
my  ambition,  and  I  realized  that  I  was  worth  some- 
thing. Shawford,  with  his  power  to  bind  and  to  loose, 
has  pointed  out  to  me  that  I  am  not  of  the  Reynolds 
pattern,  and  that  no  doubt  a  useful  and  worthy  exist- 
ence may  be  maintained  in  other  spheres.  You  under- 
stand I  leave  the  Embassy  without  a  blemish  on  my 
character,  but  they  aren't  weeping  there  at  my  depart- 
ure." 

"  They  are  mad  at  your  Embassy,"  said  Von  der 
Schultz  with  deep  conviction. 

"  No,  not  mad,  Hans.  They're  damned  conven- 
tional and  damned  respectable.  I've  not  had  the  same 
chances  —  I'm  not  even  an  Englishman  who  once  was 
Irish.  I  suppose  I  could  have  persuaded  them  to  keep 
me  on,  but  asking  for  anything  is  a  particular  form  of 

167 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

human  misery-  that  I  prefer  to  avoid.  I  asked  for 
nothing,  which  created  a  bad  impression  possibly." 

"  My  friend,"  Von  der  Schultz  spoke  with  anima- 
tion, "  you  have  come  to  a  man  who  imderstands  you. 
Are  you  in  need  of  money?  " 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  though  Marcus  hardly 
heard  him,  and  then  he  looked  at  Von  der  Schultz  with 
a  look  that  made  his  host  draw  back  into  the  depth  of 
his  chair. 

"  I  asked  you  in  sincerest  friendship,"  he  said  apolo- 
getically. 

"  I  want  nothing."  Marcus  shivered  slightly  and 
relapsed  back  to  an  inward  mood  of  thought.  Von 
der  Schultz  considered  it  advisable  to  remain  silent. 
After  a  little,  he  walked  to  the  window  and  drew  the 
curtains.  '*  You're  right,  it  is  cold,"  said  Marcus 
slowly,  folding  the  skirts  of  the  grey  coat  over  his 
knees. 

Von  der  Schultz  coloured  quickly. 

"  Come  to  the  fire,  Mark.  That  is  not  a  seat  for 
you." 

Marcus  laughed  as  he  slid  ofif  the  table  and  took  the 

coat  between  his  hands.    "  This  smells  of Which 

of  them  uses  Phulnanaf  By  George,  Hans,  I've 
swamped  your  pretty  map  with  my  drink,"  he  fini.shed 
regretfully  as  he  picked  up  the  empty  glass  and  mopped 
the  stain  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  Come  over  here,"  said  Von  der  Schultz  with  an 
effort  at  calm.  "  You  shall  have  anotlier  drink, 
Mark." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  stay."  Marcus  pitched  the  coat 
over  a  chair.     "  I'm  leaving  by  the  midnight  express." 

"To  do  what?     To  throw  your  ambition  into  the 

i68 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

refuse  heap  of  the  Legion  Etrangere?"  Von  der 
Schultz  laughed.  "  Are  you  at  all  ready  to  listen  to 
advice?  England  has  treated  you  as  she  treats  many 
of  her  sons.  As  individuals  you  are  amazingly  heroic, 
just  as,  collectively,  you  are  transcendentally  stupid. 
I  am  speaking  of  what  I  well  know  and  understand. 
(You  are  cosmopolitan  enough  to  realize  that  I  make  no 
spiteful  criticism.     I  only  state  facts." 

"  Stating  unpleasant  facts  about  a  man's  country  is 
not  alwavs  tactful,"  said  Marcus  with  indifference. 
*'  However,  from  today  I  have  no  nationality  except 

what  Ireland  gave  to  me.     Ireland "     His  eyes 

softened  suddenly. 

"  Ireland  has  never  won  the  trust  or  esteem  of  Eng- 
land." Von  der  Schultz  lighted  a  cigar  as  he  spoke. 
"  Against  Ireland  I  have  heard  the  most  extraordinary 
outbursts  of  hate,  while  staying  with  English  people." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  going  over  all  the  old  ground?  " 
Marcus  asked  wearily.  "  I'm  sick  of  life  tonight, 
Hans.  It's  odd,  isn't  it?  I  was  prepared  to  do  any- 
thing, and  look  at  where  I  am."  He  glanced  round  the 
room,  and  his  eyes  rested  for  a  second  on  the  table. 
*'  Look  at  your  map."  He  bent  over  it.  ''  Here's  a 
way  to  decide  things.  I'll  stick  my  finger  down  at 
random  and  find  if  Destiny  gives  me  a  nice  new  cradle 
to  begin  all  over  again  in.  Here's  Europe,  and  here 
is  Marcus  Janover."  He  threw  his  head  back  and 
laughed,  shutting  his  eyes,  while  Von  der  Schultz  hur- 
ried to  his  side. 

"  Mein  Gott,  Mark,  you  haven't  to  go  far.  Your 
finger  is  upon  Berlin.  It  is  here  that  you  find  your 
Destiny." 

Marcus  thrust  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets  and 

169 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

looked,  as  though  fascinated,  at  the  point  indicated  by 
Von  der  Schultz. 

"  Now  you  will  sit?  "  asked  Von  der  Schultz. 

"  Yes,  I'll  sit."  Marcus  pulled  his  chair  to  the  fire. 
"  I've  seen  your  note,  by  the  way,"  he  added,  and  his 
voice  sounded  dull ;  "  I  suppose  I  ought  to  tell  you 
that  I  understand  pretty  clearly  what  it  referred  to. 
The  date  grows  near?  " 

"  I  am  not  talking  of  that."  Von  der  Schultz  waved 
his  hand  as  though  dismissing  an  unwished-for  in- 
truder. "  We  all  have  our  own  theories  and  fancies 
—  I  have  mine,  but  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are 
those  of  the  Supreme  Command."  He  hid  his  eyes 
for  a  moment  under  his  heavv  lids.  "  Tonight  is  a 
Friendship  night,  Mark,  and  belongs  to  you.  What  I 
say  is  said  as  between  friends.     Nicht  so?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I  am  no  real  use  to  any  one,  and  not 
much  to  myself.  What  are  you  driving  at,  Hans? 
You  usually  have  a  purpose  somewhere  in  your  wan- 
derings." 

"  There  you  are  right,"  said  Von  der  Schultz ;  "  I 
have  a  motive." 

"  Damn  it,  man,  can't  you  realize  that  I'm  derelict, 
foundered,  piled  up  on  a  miserable  little  shoal,  and 
that  I  have  no  future?  I'm  done  with  England,  and 
so  there  is  no  use  wadding  me  up  with  suggestions  to 
be  hinted  at  to  Shawford.  In  any  case,  your  amazing 
sacred  aspirations  make  such  things  impossible.  You 
know,  and  I  also  know,  that  war  is  inevitable." 

Von  der  Schultz  looked  at  Janover  with  hot  ex- 
cited eyes. 

"  You're  done  with  England  ?  Then  where  do  you 
turn  ?     Is  not  Germany  your  country  as  much  as  Eng- 

J70 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

land  ever  was?  Germany  has  a  genius  for  empire, 
and  a  genius  for  understanding  men.  It  may  surprise 
you  to  learn.  Mark  Janover,  that  you  are  a  man  who 
has  been  watched  and  counted  upon.  You  have  vital 
energy,  repressed  forces,  and  an  imperious  will.  You 
see  I  make  no  secrets,  I  am  straight  with  you.  It  has 
been  thought  by  Eisenhardt,  who,  as  you  know,  is  a 
man  of  immense  influence,  that  if  you  could  be  per- 
suaded sincerely  to  desire  a  great  alliance  that  you, 
young  as  you  are,  could  be  of  great  use  to  us  in  diplo- 
matic negotiations " 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  talk  like  this."  Marcus 
spoke  with  almost  anguished  irritability.  *'  I  was  as 
much  in  the  inner  knowledge  of  things  as  Seine  Ma- 
jestdt's  valet,  and  never  opened  my  mouth  though  I've 
sat  and  listened  over  and  over  again." 

"  And  yet  what  I  tell  you  is  true.  Now  you  are  done 
with  British  muddling,  and  as  for  her  future  — 
Quatsch!  You  shall  live  to  see  much."  Von  der 
Schultz  threw  out  his  great  hair)'  hands.  "  Come  to 
our  side,  Mark  Janover.  England  has  thrown  you 
down  the  backstairs.  You  shall  not  sit  still ;  you  shall 
be  given  wide  power,  and  you  shall  have  the  pleasure 
of  pitting  your  wits  against  your  late  colleague  Reyn- 
olds." He  laughed  a  loud  boisterous  laugh,  as 
though  borne  on  irresistibly  by  the  vigour  of  his  elo- 
quence. 

Marcus  Janover  flushed  up  to  the  roots  of  his  bronze 
hair. 

"  By  Gad,"  he  said  slowly,  "  you're  not  a  bad  mod- 
ern edition  of  the  serpent,  Hans." 

"  I  do  not  tempt  you  —  I  should  hesitate " 

171 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  You're  right.  Goods  bought  at  auction  price  are 
not  always  bargains." 

"  Yet,  naturally,  if  you  worked  for  us  you  would 
be  paid." 

Marcus  got  up  quickly  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  Good-night,  Von  der  Schultz,"  he  said  roughly. 
**  You  have  still  to  learn  a  few  points  in  your  game." 

"  Come  back,  Mark."  Von  der  Schultz  caught  his 
arm  and  stopped  him.  *'  I  am  no  diplomatist,  I'm  only 
a  Prussian  and  know  Prussian  ways.  I  ask  you  not  to 
go  out  into  some  stranger  service.  Here  is  the  country 
of  your  childhood  —  what  more  do  you  seek?  " 

Marcus  turned  again  to  the  room,  and,  \valking  to 
the  table,  bent  over  the  open  map. 

"  I  look  for  liberty,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  and 
I  do  not  find  it  in  your  notes."  His  keen,  restless  eyes 
brooded  over  the  outspread  page.  "  God  knows  I'm 
a  sick  man  tonight,  and  much  of  all  you  say  may  be 
very  true.  But  if  I  do  begin  again  and  cast  in  my 
lot  with  you  and  yours,  I'll  do  it  as  a  free  man  and  take 
nothing  from  you." 

Von  der  Schultz  nodded  silently. 

"  If  I  do,  I'll  do  it  my  own  way,  and  I  shall  use  my 
own  discretion  as  to  what  political  mission  I  am  sent 
upon.  For  one  thing  "  —  he  wheeled  round  quickly 
—  "I  will  not  go  East.  I'll  have  no  lot  nor  part  in 
stirring  up  those  fires.  You  understand,  Von  der 
Schultz,  I'm  not  in  any  sense  in  your  pay."  His 
mouth  tightened  suddenly.  "  I  stand  alone.  You 
said  I  was  brought  up  in  Germany,  and  it  is  true  that 
most  of  what  I  have  in  the  way  of  memories  that  count 
were  given  me  by  Germany."  He  turned  so  white 
that  Von  der  Schultz  put  out  his  hand,  as  though  he 

172 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

expected  him  to  stagger  and  fall.  "  I  can  imagine 
nothing  more  tragic,  more  awful,  and  more  full  of  sor- 
row from  my  own  point  of  view  than  this  coming  war." 
Marcus  pulled  himself  together  with  sudden  violence 
—  "  England  has  decided  so  far  as  my  small  lot  and 

share  is  concerned  —  and  so Well,  it  has  been 

known  before  that  men  have  loved  their  foster-mothers 
best." 

He  raised  his  head  and  stood  looking  upwards,  and 
Von  der  Schultz  Vv'atched  him  with  tense  excitement. 

They  had  come  to  some  solemn  and  almost  awful 
moment,  and  the  hush  that  was  upon  them  both  was 
heavy  with  the  comprehension  of  tremendous  force.: 

Over  the  grief  that  stamped  itself  upqji  the  face 
of  Marcus  Janover  a  light  broke  suddenly,  only  touch- 
ing his  lifted  eyes;  there  seemed  no  doubt  left  in  his 
mind.  In  the  silence  Von  der  Schultz  realized  that 
he  saw  before  him  a  man  whose  greatness  made  his 
gain  more  than  ever  valuable  to  Germany.  England 
had  suffered  defeat  in  his  room  that  very  night,  and  it 
was  he,  Von  der  Schultz,  who  had  conquered. 

"  I  have  not  bought  him,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  He 
could  not  be  bought;  but  I  have  made  him  see,"  and 
he  straightened  himself  up  from  his  leaning  position. 

Marcus  moved  suddenly,  and  looked  at  his  host 
straight  in  the  face. 

"  I  am  not  out  for  revenge  —  there  is  not  any  per- 
sonal feeling  in  all  this.  I  am  not  playing  my  hand 
in  that  way  —  you  understand  this,  Von  der  Schultz?  " 

"  It  is  entirely  understood,"  Von  der  Schultz  replied 
gruffly;  "  also,  Mark,  you  will  stay  with  me,  will  you 
not?" 

Marcus  shook  his  head. 

173 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  No,"  he  said  shortly.  "  I  will  take  other  rooms. 
There  is  a  burrow  off  Leipzigstrasse  that  will  do." 

"  Come  on  with  me  to  the  Admiralpalast."  Von 
der  Schultz  folded  up  the  map  and  locked  it  away, 
and,  taking  his  coat,  pulled  it  on  quickly.  "  Let  us 
play  while  we  can,  Mark.  Soon  the  telephone  bells 
will  keep  you  busy,  for  there  will  be  work  to  be 
done.  Make  the  most  of  Kaiser  Weather  while  it 
lasts.  Graf  von  Vald,  with  the  big  gim  interest 
behind  him,  may  be  there,  and  I  should  like  to  intro- 
duce you  as  a  friend." 

Janover  cast  his  still  mood  from  him,  and  his 
face  altered  suddenly  with  the  quick  diversity  of  his 
nature. 

"  Yes,  I'll  come,"  he  said.  "  Music  and  noise  and 
hot  humanity  will  be  more  tolerable.  I  have  nothing 
particular  to  say  to  Von  Vald.  By  the  way,  I  think 
I  should  prefer  Ursule,  if  she  is  invited.  I  like  your 
Ursule,  Hans ;  she  is  as  wild  as  a  jackal  in  full  cry. 
There  are  times  when  her  happy  perversity  is  aimost 
stimulating." 

Von  der  Schultz  pushed  out  his  underlip  dubiously. 
**  I  have  information  from  her  that  was  worth  what 
it  cost;  but  women  are  difficult  —  she  would  be  safer 
in  some  mud  hole  in  Poland.  I  am  not  a  fool,  I  do 
not  besot  myself,  but  she  loves  me  desperately." 

"  You  should  hardly  blame  her  for  that  weakness." 
Marcus  took  up  his  hat.  "  I  take  it  she  is  on  the  Secret 
Register?'*  _ 

"  Certainly !     But  there,  women  are  sly,  and  Ursule   I 
is  a  true  v/oman." 

Marcus  looked  round  the  room  as  Von  der  Schultz 
opened  the  door  into  the  outer  hall.     In  one  hour 

174 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  imperceptible  change  had  come  upon  him,  and  the 
interior  of  the  dark  heavily  furnished  room,  with 
its  book-shelves  and  tapestry  curtains,  had  inclosed 
that  hour. 

**'  The  car  is  ready,"  said  Von  der  Schultz  in  his 
loud  strong  voice.  **  Now,  Mark  Janover,  for  the 
champagne  and  the  painted  women  —  but  also  business 
and  Von  Vald." 

"  I'm  coming."  Marcus  moved  slowly  away  as 
though  the  place  fascinated  him. 

''  Sehr  sch'dn;'  replied  his  host.  "  We  shall  be 
amused.  If  Ursule  is  still  disagreeable  I  shall  punish 
her  —  she  shall  not  talk  to  me,  she  shall  talk  to  you." 

Marcus  settled  himself  in  the  seat  beside  Von  der 
Schultz.  "  I  hope  she  may  enjoy  her  punishment," 
he  said  carelessly. 


175 


CHAPTER  XV 

NOT  a  week  after  his  interview  with  Von  der 
Schultz  Marcus  Janover  found  himself  on  the 
move. 

There  was  nothing  to  attract  remark  in  anything 
he  did  during  his  last  few  days  in  Berlin.  He  called 
at  the  Embassy,  but  was  not  received,  and  he  was 
thankful  to  know  that  Reynolds  was  not  likely  to 
come  back  until  after  his  own  departure. 

Outwardly  his  life  was  very  much  what  it  had 
been,  and  only  a  few  knew  that  any  change  had  taken 
place.  Rumour  had  it  that  Janover  was  leaving  for 
some  other  work;  but  rumour  was  vague,  and  had  no 
circumstances  to  offer  and  no  detail  to  supply.  Jan- 
over was  one  of  those  ubiquitous  beings  who  might  go 
anywhere. 

As  for  Marcus  himself,  he  had  two  things  that  he 
wished  to  do  while  his  hands  were  free.  First,  he 
desired  intensely  to  see  Eitel  von  Verlhof  once  again ; 
and  then  to  see  Hesper.  He  felt  that  he  could  not 
juggle  for  an  hour  of  happiness,  and  that  once  he 
had  begun  that  mysterious  report  which  he  was  to 
make  for  his  new  employers,  he  could  not  seek  either 
Eitel  or  Hesper  ever  again.  The  notes  he  had  taken 
mentally,  gathered  from  his  observation  of  Von  der 
Schultz'  map,  were  also  unrecorded  elsewhere  than  in 
his  brain.  With  a  kind  of  fanatical  rage  he  desired 
to  feel  clean  for  just  one  little  space  of  weeks.  He 
carried  this  thought  firmly  and  held  to  his  conviction 

176 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

in  spite  of  Von  der  Schultz,  whose  hoarse  laughter  and 
terrible  geniality  became  all  but  unbearable. 

The  evening  before  he  left  Berlin,  Marcus,  while 
walking  with  Ingolstadt  of  the  Bavarian  Army,  met 
Lord  Shawford  in  Unter  den  Linden.  Ingolstadt 
walked  on  slowly  to  permit  Marcus  to  speak  to  his 
late  Chief. 

"  Anything  to  report,  Janover?  "  Lord  Shawford's 
eyes  were  interested  and  keen. 

"  I  can  make  no  report  yet,  sir."  Marcus  stood 
with  a  slight  suggestion  of  defiance  in  his  attitude. 
"  I  am  going  to  Ireland." 

"Ah?  To  look  for  possible  joints  in  the  harness? 
Let  me  hear  when  you  know  by  what  gate  our  friends 
propose  to  enter  French  territory.  I  am  anxious  for 
certainties."  He  glanced  towards  Ingolstadt  who  was 
standing  out  of  earshot.  "  I  suppose  T  had  better  be 
rude  to  you,  Janover,"  and  shrugging  his  heavy 
shoulders  he  passed  on  without  even  the  small  civility 
of  a  nod. 

Ingolstadt  smiled  as  Marcus  caught  him  up. 

"  A  civil  old  gentleman,  heinf" 

"  And  yet  I  did  my  work  efficiently,  he  used  to  say." 
Marcus  spoke  indifferently  and  stopped  to  take  his  hat 
off,  with  a  little  exaggeration  of  politeness,  to  Ursule, 
who  passed  them  driving  with  Von  der  Schultz. 

Ingolstadt  laughed  scornfully.  "  She  will  be  one 
too  many  for  that  Brandenburger.  As  it  is,  I  fancy 
she  is  more  than  a  little  taken  with  you,  my  friend." 

"  Heaven  forbid,"  said  Marcus  with  deep  convic- 
tion. "  She  is  too  expensive.  The  entertainment  she 
provides  me  with  is  strictly  impersonal." 

He  was  glad  when  the  time  came  that  he  could 
177 


7"he  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

leave  Berlin  and  he  could  feel  a  little  respite  before 
him.  His  orders  were  clear  and  concise,  and  he  had 
been  entirely  absolved  from  any  interview  at  the 
Secret  Agents  Bureau  either  at  the  Blumensale  or  in 
Koenigergratzerstrasse.  An  extremely  formal  and 
courteous  letter  was  given  him  by  Von  der  Schultz, 
in  which  it  was  conveyed  to  him  that  if  he  were  going 
to  Ireland  much  interest  would  be  felt  in  any  report  he 
could  make  upon  the  probability  of  civil  war  in  that 
country.  Nothing  was  required  of  him  except  this, 
and  he  was  invited  to  consider  himself  regarded  in  a 
special  and  unusual  light. 

Von  der  Schultz  read  the  letter  over  his  shoulder, 
and  expressed  himself  entirely  satisfied. 

"  Grossartig! "  he  said,  rubbing  his  hands  together. 
"  There  will  be  war  in  Ireland.  Those  Grangers  are 
as  bitter  as  vinegar,  and  the  Catholics  never"  for- 
get." 

**  Do  we  favour  any  special  cause,  Hans?  '*  Marcus 
folded  the  letter  and  put  it  away  in  his  pocket. 

"  The  cause  of  Deiitschland  iibcr  allcs;  and  your 
little  Irish  island  flaring  up  into  flame  will  make  a 
good  candle  to  see  the  way  to  I^ndon,  that  is  all." 

"  I  am  not  squeamish  exactly,"  Marcus  spoke  slowly, 
"  but  I  have  a  few  little  scruples.  I  do  not  go  to  Ire- 
land as  an  agent  —  merely  as  an  observer, —  and  I  will 
give  you  a  truthful  record,  which  is  what  your  agents 
won't  do  for  you." 

"  Do  not  delay  too  long,  Mark." 

"  I  have  taken  a  month's  leave,"  said  Marcus 
fiercely,  "  and  I'm  damned  well  going  to  have  it." 

It  was  midnight  when  Marcus  Janover  arrived  at 

178 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Metz,  where  Eitel  von  Verlhof  was  in  garrison  with 
one  of  the  ten  squadrons  of  cavalry  quartered  in  the 
great  stronghold  near  the  vast  forests  of  Lorraine. 
Boundaries  always  had  a  curious  fascination  for  him 
—  the  sudden  end  and  the  sudden  beginning,  the 
mysterious  unseen  line  that  divided  nation  from 
nation,  and  that  was  entirely  invisible  and  yet  strong 
and  steadfast.  Metz  enkindled  new  emotions  in  his 
heart :  the  force  it  expressed,  the  magic  of  the  frontier 
land,  and  the  marvel  of  the  external  world.  The 
eleven  great  fortresses  represented  the  material  embodi- 
ment of  a  thought  that  was  fiercely  bent  upon  war  and 
destruction,  and  yet  thought  itself  was  of  the  nature 
of  dreams  and  imaginings.  Thought  was  behind  all 
life's  outward  semblance ;  the  great  conception  of  the 
creation  of  the  earth  and  its  myriad  life,  the  concep- 
tion of  man,  himself  an  embodiment  of  Divine  will ; 
the  mystic  on  the  hillside,  the  artist,  the  soldier,  and 
the  little  child,  each  busy  w4th  their  inner  life. 

Metz  had  taken  to  itself  the  character  of  the  ideas 
that  had  gone  to  make  it ;  it  was  a  soldier  in  stone  and 
rigour,  as  some  towns  are  monks  and  priests  and  others 
middle-class  shopkeepers.  Marcus  caught  himself 
thinking  quickly  of  the  possibility  of  collecting  infor- 
mation as  he  drove  to  the  house  where  Eitel  von  Verl- 
hof lived,  and  a  sudden  pang  seized  him.  He 
wondered  if  it  were  possible  to  fall  so  quickly  into  his 
new  role;  already  he  began  to  realize  that  it  held  the 
vital  spark  of  excitement  and  adventure.  For  one 
moment  he  had  actually  reckoned  on  the  possibility  of 
using  Eitel  as  a  means  towards  his  end,  and  he 
wondered  with  dismayed  amazement  at  his  own  power 
to  put  the  past  behind  him,  and  to  assimilate  his  new 

179 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

life  with  such  incredible  vividness  and  rapidity.  It 
was  only  when  he  sat  at  Eitel's  table  and  looked  at  his 
friend's  blue  eyes  and  kind  honest  face  that  he  knew, 
as  all  know  at  certain  times,  that  the  past  does  not 
die  nor  change;  it  is  only  hidden  by  the  immediate 
present,  and  sometimes  the  near  things  vanish  utterly, 
leaving  us  back  in  the  past. 

All  the  old  days  rushed  back  upon  Marcus  Janover, 
and  though  he  tried  to  fight  against  the  flooding 
memories,  the  present  was  remote  and  strange  and  alien 
to  him. 

Eitel  in  his  gay  uniform,  sitting  in  the  bright  light, 
brought  back  little  Eitel  and  little  Alarcus,  and  the 
resurrection  was  terrible  in  its  poignancy;  he  brought 
with  him  also  other  memories  that  carried  the  un- 
spoken name  of  Hesper  towards  both  of  them,  and 
when  Eitel,  at  the  end  of  their  midnight  meal,  offered 
Marcus  a  cigar  he  asked  suddenly  how  she  was. 

"  I  am  going  to  Ireland."  Marcus  struck  a  match 
and  watched  it  burn  slowly.     "  I  shall  see  her  then." 

Eitel  von  Verlhof  got  up  and  rang  the  bell  for  his 
servant  to  clear  away.  He  had  progressed  to  full  man- 
hood, and  all  the  promise  of  the  earlier  years  was 
more  than  fulfilled.  As  he  stood  by  the  stove  Marcus 
looked  at  him  and  realized  that  his  old  friend  was  in- 
deed a  man.  His  fair  open  face  was  grave  and 
slightly  serious,  and  his  eyes  were  the  same  kind  eyes 
with  just  a  suggestion  of  wonder  in  them.  As 
Marcus  watched  him  he  felt  a  stab  of  self-pity.  No 
tribulation  had  touched  the  life  of  Eitel  von  Verlhof, 
and  he  had  never  been  forced  to  make  any  choice  of 
ways.  His  one  sorrow,  his  unrequited  love  of  Hesper 
Sheridan,  was  a  sorrow  that  had  ennobled  and  not  de- 

i8o 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

based.  Eitel  remained  Eitel,  permanently  and  for- 
ever. 

The  great  gulf  lying  between  them  yawned  wide, 
and  behind  his  well-controlled  manner  Marcus  Janover 
saw  the  sorrow  of  his  own  soul. 

Again  he  struck  a  light  and  pulled  thoughtfully  at 
his  cigar. 

*'  All  this  you  tell  me  about  leaving  the  Embassy 
is  very  unexpected,"  said  Eitel,  returning  to  the  subject 
with  which  Marcus  had  opened  their  conversation. 
"  We  only  know  very  little  really,  Marcus,  and  of 
course  I  speak  openly  to  you,  but  there  are  big  events 
on  their  way.  A  frontier  town  is  always  aware  of 
changes,  and  we  have  had  a  dozen  or  more  of  Krupp's 
men,  who  understand  the  siege  guns,  sent  here  within 
the  last  week.  You  probably  know  if  England  will 
be  in  the  war  or  out  of  it  —  God  send  she  stands  out, 
—  but  anyhow,  if  your  way  is  clear,  it  would  be  some- 
thing to  feel  that  you  and  I  shall  not  stand  facing  one 
another  in  enmity.'' 

Janover  knocked  his  ash  into  a  little  silver  tray. 
"  I  think  it  will  be  a  case  of  shutters  up  at  the  Em- 
bassy," he  said  thoughtfully,  "  and  so  perhaps  I  am 
better  out  of  it.  I'm  oddly  placed,  you  see,  Eitel, 
damned  oddly  placed." 

Eitel  loked  at  him  questioningly. 

Marcus  fiddled  with  the  little  tray  and  upset  the 
ashes  on  to  the  polished  table.  "  England  for  the 
English  —  but  then  you  see  I'm  not  English.  Oh,  for 
God's  sake  don't  interrupt  me,  Eitel  —  I'm  not 
English.  I  don't  understand  them  —  I'm  one  of  the 
blasphemous  irresponsible  Irish.  It  must  all  sound 
strange  to  you,  but  we  Irish  are  girded  and  carried 

i8i 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

where  we  would  not,  because  we  are  always  aliens." 
He  collected  the  pile  of  ash  carefully,  not  raising  his 
eyes  as  he  spoke.  "  I  shall  run  my  own  little  re- 
bellion, and  practise  my  own  little  heresy,  for  virtue 
and  hard  work  have  not  helped  me.     I'm  reasonably 

true  to  my  convictions "     He  hesitated.     "  You 

must  believe  that,  Eitel.  I'm  not  simply  a  disap- 
pointed suitor  espousing  an  enemy's  cause " 

"  Mark !  "  Eitel's  voice  was  low  with  reproach 
and  distress.     "  Never  say  such  a  thing  to  me." 

Marcus  flattened  the  little  grey  pile  with  his  palm. 
"  Oh,  it  sounds  foul  enough,"  he  said  in  a  hard  voice. 
*'  There  is  abstract  right  and  so  on,  and  there  is  much 
that  you  or  any  one  might  say.  The  highly  respectable 
won't  find  much  excuse  for  me  because  I  see  fit  to 
cut  all  my  connections  with  both  the  Embassy  and  the 
Power  it  represents.  Briefly,  Eitel,  I've  been  natural- 
ized." 

Eitel  moved  uncomfortably  in  his  chair. 

"  You've  been " 

"  Naturalized.  Good  God,  man,  can't  you  find  any- 
thing to  say?"  Marcus  looked  up  at  last  and  his 
eyes  were  strained.  "  Germany  was  my  home  as  a 
child,  and  when  it  came  to  pack  and  quit,  I  decided 
in  favour  of  a  country  where  I  had  ties  —  of  course 
I  dreamed  on  for  a  bit  about  Persia  and  about  the 
Far  East,  but  eventually  I  took  this  step."  He  leaned 
forward  a  little.  "  Does  it  seem  strange  to  you, 
Eitel?" 

Von  Verlhof  sat  quite  still  watching  the  thin  blue 
curl  of  smoke  from  his  cigar. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  said  slowly,  after  an  almost  un- 
bearable silence.     *'  Even  though  I  cannot  understand, 

182 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

I  am  glad,  Mark."  He  held  out  his  hand  and  breathed 
a  long  deep  breath,  and  when  Janover's  hand  met  his 
for  a  moment,  Eitel  wondered  at  its  icy  coldness.  He 
had  heard  Marcus  speak  often  of  new  beginnings  and 
of  things  he  loved  and  longed  for,  and  he  missed  the 
soaring  hope  that  was  formerly  so  much  a  part  of 
his  friend's  whole  outlook. 

With  sudden  violence  Marcus  swept  away  from  the 
subject  and  talked  of  Ireland  and  of  Hesper.  His 
memory  was  full  of  the  hills  and  the  heather  and  the 
pines  and  the  green  sad  light  of  Ireland.  As  he  talked, 
the  reality  of  it  all  kindled  in  his  voice  and  touched 
the  imagination  of  Eitel  strongly.  Marcus  had  the 
power  to  recall  intensely,  and  through  the  vividness 
of  his  own  memory  he  brought  the  living  presentment 
close  and  real  to  his  friend.  In  the  room  where  they 
sat,  far  away  and  divided  both  by  space  and  by  the 
passing  of  months  from  the  place  where  they  had  last 
been  together,  time  turned  backwards  as  Marcus 
talked,  wondering,  as  he  talked,  at  the  tragic  romance 
of  his  own  destiny. 

Eitel  was  only  across  the  table  from  him,  and  the 
thought  crossed  his  mind  again  and  again  as  he  asked 
vainly  why  life  had  come  to  them  both  so  differently. 
He  did  not  want  to  think;  in  some  blind  way  he  felt 
that  he  must  go  on,  and  that  morning  must  see  him 
on  his  way  again.  If  he  ceased  to  talk  of  Ireland, 
Eitel  would  begin  to  talk  of  Germany,  and  he  had  done 
what  he  came  there  to  do.  He  had  lied  fairly  success- 
fully to  his  friend,  and  he  had  progressed  a  little 
further  with  preliminaries.  To  get  the  evening 
through  and  to  get  away  quickly  was  all  that  remained 
for  him  to  do. 

183 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  And  what  a  wall  of  reality  has  intervened  since  we 
were  there,"  he  said,  lying  back  in  his  chair  and  look- 
ing upwards.  "  The  house  is  asleep  over  there  in  Ire- 
land, and  the  ghosts  are  walking  about  it,  I  suppose; 
poor,  thin  lost  dreams.  And  down  in  the  stables  it  is 
inky  dark  and  the  good  old  stable  reek  is  strong, 
and  probably  there  is  a  storm  blowing  over  the  hills 
and  the  farms,  and  Hest  is  dreaming  too,  I  suppose ; 
and  there  are  carts  going  along  the  road,  because  m 

Ireland  there  always  are  carts  going  somewhere " 

He  pressed  one  hand  over  his  eyes  suddenly,  and  was 
silent. 

"  She  will  be  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Eitel. 
**  Marcus,  you  understand  that  I  love  her  very,  very 
greatly.  It  is  of  her  that  I  think  ever.  Life  divides 
in  a  way,  but  it  cannot  divide  love  and  friendship. 
In  love  there  must  be  two  to  love  to  make  all  perfect, 

and   you   and   Fraulein   Hest "     He   stopped   as 

Marcus  swung  out  his  arm  suddenly. 

"  No,  Eitel  —  that's  never  to  be  now.  I'm  going 
there  for  the  last  time,  and  it's  the  last  time  this 
side  of  silence  that  I  shall  see  Hesper.  My  life  has 
suffered  something  not  so  poetic  as  a  sea  change,  but 
there's  no  place  in  it  now  for  a  woman  like  her.  I've 
forfeited  my  claim,  and  I  did  it  knowing  that  I  did  it." 

The  eyes  of  Eitel  von  Verlhof  clouded  suddenly, 
and  his  face  grew  stern. 

"  Knowing  that  she  loves  vou,  Marcus?  " 

"  Yes." 

**  Knowing  that  she  is  waiting  for  you?"  He  got 
up  and  stood  over  his  friend's  chair.  "  What  mad 
impulse  is  on  you.  Mark?  There  is  first  this  news  of 
your  leaving  the  Embassy,  there  is  this  determination 

184 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

to  change  your  nationality,  and  now  there  is  this  last 
thing '' 

"  Call  me  a  damned  blackguard,  and  have  it  over," 
said  Marcus  idly,  relapsing  suddenly  into  his  flippant 
easy  manner. 

"  You  are  my  friend,"  said  Eitel  quietly,  **  but  I  do 
not  understand." 

"  It's  pretty  obvious,  I  should  think."  Marcus  was 
smoking  again,  and  he  looked  up  with  mocking  eyes 
at  Eitel's  tragic  face.     "  Absurdly  simple." 

Eitel  turned  away  and  went  back  to  his  chair. 

"  Now  tell  me  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and  to  make 
a  fresh  start."  Marcus  laughed  as  he  watched  him. 
"  I  tell  you,  Eitel,  it's  all  a  simple,  sordid  little  story. 
There  are  times  when  I  must  do  things  that  you 
couldn't  do,  and  I've  done  one  of  these  things  —  it 
doesn't  matter  which  —  that  puts  me  out  of  the  reckon- 
ing. There  is  a  fascination  about  wrecking  anything 
from  a  room  to  a  career,  if  you  do  it  thoroughly  and 
break  every  bit  of  damned  furniture  while  you're  at 
it." 

His  look  was  defiant,  almost  a  challenge. 

"  You  used  to  think  so  differently.  You  are  still 
you,  Mark."  Eitel's  voice  was  intensely  sad.  "  But 
have  you  lost  the  old  Ideal?  " 

"  I'm  out  of  the  old  line,  and  I  wear  no  uniform. 
What  is  the  British  Empire  to  me,  any  more  than  if 
I  were  a  street  loafer  who  stands  to  admire  the  motors 
and  the  carriages  going  into  Hyde  Park?  If  I  were 
to  change  my  religion  you  wouldn't  accuse  me  of 
having  lost  my  Ideal  —  and  if  my  faith,  why  not  my 
so-called  nationality?  I'm  not  trampling  on  the  sham- 
rock so  far,  so  you  can  reason  that  out  carefully.     As 

185 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

for  the  other  question  " —  he  bent  down  his  head  and 
clasped  his  hands  between  his  knees  — **  well,  some- 
thing happened  over  here  that  makes  it  all  impossible." 

The  silence  between  them  was  unbroken,  and  at  last 
Eitel  spoke. 

"  I'm  more  grieved  than  I  can  say,  Mark.  But 
nothing  has  happened  or  will  happen  that  can  break 
our  friendship." 

Alarcus  lifted  himself  out  of  his  chair. 

"Optimist!"  he  said  in  a  queer  forced  voice;  and 
after  a  moment  he  added,  "  Good-night,  Eitel." 

When  he  went  to  his  room  he  did  not  sleep,  late 
as  it  was.  If  it  was  true  that  it  is  the  first  step  that 
costs  so  heavily,  he  felt  that  he  had  paid  a  price 
beyond  all  computation.  The  price  staggered  his 
imagination,  and  yet  there  was  more  and  more  and  still 
more  to  follow,  until  shelter  and  peace  were  driven 
out  eternally  and  he  stood  utterly  and  forever  alone. 
He  looked  around  the  plain  little  room  which  was 
Eitel  von  Verlhof's  guest-room,  and  he  remembered 
the  wonderful  promised  land  of  the  future  that  he 
and  Eitel  had  often  seen  from  tlie  cliff  over  Hildes- 
heim.  Marcus  knew  that  he  was  to  die  in  the  wilder- 
ness without  hope  to  realize  the  vision  luminous  that 
he  had  seen  from  afar.  It  was  one  thing  to  dream 
of  things  that  would  never  fail  nor  betray,  and  to  see 
the  shining  towers  and  turrets,  but  it  was  quite  another 
thing  to  stand  before  the  gates  and  demand  entrance. 
His  way  did  not  lie  there. 

For  a  little  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  misery  of  the 
hour,  but  gradually  he  felt  his  vitality  return.  There 
was  always  something  in  the  bottom  of  Marcus  Jan- 
over's  bag,  something  that  came  to  him  in  a  way  he 

1 86 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

neither  understood  nor  consciously  achieved  through 
any  power  of  his  own.  He  could  be  very  desperate 
and  very  reckless,  but  he  could  not  be  consistently  sad ; 
the  brave  self  in  his  heart  rallied  and  overthrew 
despair.  His  eyes  changed  and  he  stretched  out  his 
arms  quickly.  He  was  a  penitent  no  longer.  There 
might  not  be  very  much  of  life  before  him,  and  what 
there  was,  was  evidently  decreed  by  fate  to  be  cast 
along  tragic  lines,  and  yet  his  heart  felt  lifted,  as  the 
hearts  of  all  warriors  lift,  be  they  men  or  women,  when 
the  dark  hour  looms  very  close. 

"  Ouvre  honhomme  Hiver.  .  .  .  C'est  le  Print emps 
qui  Sonne/'  he  quoted  to  himself,  "  and,  by  Gad,  I'll 
squeeze  what  there  is  of  life  out  of  this  fantastic 
game." 


187 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IT  was  dark  very  early  in  December,  and  the  days 
were  often  little  better  than  a  fitful  gleam  that 
awoke  after  eight,  and  died  out  again  long  before  the 
afternoon  was  over. 

Hesper  had  come  in  from  hunting,  and  having 
changed  out  of  her  wet  mudd}'-  clothing,  she  stood  in 
her  room  and  looked  at  the  clock.  Such  a  little  time 
now  and  Marcus  would  drive  up  the  wet  crunching 
gravel  of  the  long  avenue  and  come  back.  There  is  so 
much  included  in  the  two  words  *'  come  back,"  they 
spell  the  whole  full  story  of  sheer  tragedy  or  great  joy. 
Every  living  soul  has  cried  them  to  closed  doors  and 
vacant  air,  has  cried  them  to  inexorable  skies,  utterly, 
terribly  distant ;  always  they  are  the  burden  of  the  song 
of  parted  lives.  And  some  do  come  back,  and  life  is 
glad  again ;  and  some  never  return,  and  so  the  strangest 
mystery  of  so  many  complexities  plays  out  its  part  in 
life,  and  no  two  are  ever  quite  the  same. 

Hope  grew  in  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  and  the  light 
in  Hesper's  eyes  danced  with  sheer  exultation.  Mar- 
cus was  coming  back,  and  that  was  all  she  wanted  out 
of  life.  She  knew  that  something  had  gone  amiss, 
and  that  he  must  be  grievously  disappointed  because  of 
the  strange  and  sudden  end  to  his  career ;  but  Hesper 
was  Irish,  and  the  Irish  are  long  used  both  by  heredity 
and  environment  to  the  thwarting  checks  that  come 
suddenly  and  plant  a  barrier  across  the  way.     Ambi- 

i88 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

tion  was  not  much  to  her  in  any  personal  sense.  To 
live  vigorously  seemed  the  only  thing  that  could  very 
much  matter,  and  success  was  the  incident  that  hap- 
pened or  did  not  happen.  Very  few  ever  attained  any- 
thing among  her  own  acquaintances,  and  in  all  the 
stories  of  those  of  her  own  house,  eminence  was  en- 
tirely unknown  and  unhoped  for.  If  disappointment 
had  caught  Marcus  like  a  sunk  fence  in  his  early  career, 
and  taken  the  flame  of  hope  from  his  eyes  and  snatched 
vast  projects  out  of  his  hands,  there  was  something 
brave  and  full  of  spirit  still  left.  It  was  not  a  termi- 
nation, so  Hesper  felt,  and  she  saw  no  menace  to  Mar- 
cus of  any  sagging  end  dwindling  off  into  a  dry  desert 
place.  Marcus  would  make  a  new  beginning  and  go 
on  with  no  less  of  his  impetuous  zest  and  force.  Ful- 
ness must  be  his,  because  he  gave  with  generosity,  fill- 
ing the  cup  of  life  up  to  the  brim.  He  had  never  come 
out  of  the  infinite  silence  to  return  thither  without  hav- 
ing been  through  wild  crowded  hours,  and  he  stood 
definitely  on  the  wide,  breezy,  momentous  fields  of  the 
earth  facing  a  brave  kind  destiny. 

Hesper's  heart  quickened  its  beating  as  she  put  on  a 
simple  lace  frock  that  made  her  look  very  young  and 
slim;  and  as  she  dressed  herself  her  thoughts  raced 
with  her  quick  fingers.  No  doubt  the  hope  of  marry- 
ing Marcus  was  postponed  more  than  ever  indefinitely; 
but  she  did  not  think  much  of  that,  she  was  prepared  to 
wait.  She  buried  her  face  in  a  large  bunch  of  violets, 
and  loved  their  scent  and  colour  and  the  mysterious 
magic  of  their  very  name.  God's  world  was  a  good 
world,  and  the  glow  of  the  day,  and  the  memory  of  the 
sharp  run  over  the  best  of  the  Ardshane  country  just 
at  sunset,  lived  in  her  young  healthy   frame.     She 

189 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

looked  at  the  clock  again.  It  was  nearly  time  to  listen 
for  wheels  on  the  drive.  She  felt,  as  all  youth  feels, 
that  attainment  is  possible  and  near,  and  that  joy  is  a 
birthright,  not  knowing  that  there  is  but  one  thing  that 
humanity  may  ever  count  upon  as  definite  and  sure. 

She  was  full  of  her  splendid  emotion  when  she  went 
down  the  staircase  into  the  hall,  where  Hardress  was 
sitting,  his  feet  stretched  out  to  the  fire,  and  his  favour- 
ite old  hound  Faultless  beside  him.  Hesper  perched 
herself  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  the  firelight  playing  on 
her  face  and  lighting  the  tiny  diamond  buckles  on  her 
satin  shoes. 

"  So  young  Marcus  has  left  the  Diplomatic  Service," 
said  Hardress,  nodding  his  head  wisely.  "  I  never  be- 
lieved he'd  stick  to  it."  Hardress  was  invariably  in- 
fallible after  the  event.  *'  I  wonder  if  he'd  take  Bally- 
drishane  and  farm  it.  I'd  like  to  have  one  of  my  own 
in  the  place;  and  though  our  day  is  over  " — his  voice 
grew  gloomy  and  touched  with  rancour  — "  if  there  is 
a  revolution  and  civil  war,  he'd  be  handy." 

Hesper  patted  her  father's  collar  with  a  light  sooth- 
ing hand. 

"  There  won't  be  any  need  for  that,"  she  said  cheer- 
fully. 

"  And  if  those  damned  Sinn  Feiners  shoot  me,  he'd 
be  there  to  look  after  you.  Hesper.  I  wanted  some 
peace  in  my  old  age,  but  what  with  one  thing  and  an- 
other there  doesn't  seem  any  peace  left  in  Ireland." 
He  drank  from  the  glass  set  at  his  elbow.  "  Black- 
guards," he  said  angrily,  "  I'd  give  them  Martial  Law, 
and  make  them  eat  lead  to  teach  them." 

Hesper  was  not  listening  to  him.  She  had  caught 
the  first  sound  of  wheels  on  the  drive,  and  she  stood 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

up,  her  hand  pressed  over  her  heart  Her  happiness 
made  her  thrill  and  quiver,  and  her  whole  soul  filled 
with  a  great  sweeping  joy.  She  loved  Marcus  always, 
but  the  great  realization  that  he  was  close  to  her  made 
her  love  rise  in  her  like  a  dashing  wave  and  swept  her 
to  the  heights. 

When  the  wide  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  the 
wind  and  the  rain  and  the  terrier  —  who  had  been 
barking  outside  —  and  the  luggage  and  the  confusion 
of  the  first  moments  had  all  entered  with  Marcus  in 
one  ecstatic  jumble  of  joy  and  happiness,  Hesper  ran 
to  him  and  took  both  his  hands  in  hers. 

"  Oh,  Marcus,  here  we  are,  and  here's  Dad  and  the 
whisky  decanter,  and  Faultless,  and  little  Taffy  all 
wanting  to  shake  hands  together." 

Marcus  pulled  off  his  heavy  coat  as  he  smiled  down 
at  her  bright  gay  face. 

"  El  Dorado  won  the  Farmers'  Cup  at  the  Breffainy 
Meeting,''  said  Hardress,  pouring  out  a  drink  when  he 
had  welcomed  his  nephew.  "  You  remember  El  Do- 
rado —  the  colt  by  Sir  Ferdinand  out  of  Spanish 
Gold." 

**  I  remember,  Uncle."  Marcus  sat  down  near  the 
fire. 

"  I've  got  rid  of  Barry  above  at  Ballydrishane,"  con- 
tinued Hardress.  "  He  was  paying  no  rent,  and  was 
in  with  that  rascal  Geoghegan  who  keeps  the  Sheridan 
Arms  in  the  town.  He  was  up  to  his  neck  in  sedition, 
and  was  a  Nationalist,  for  all  that  he  went  to  Church 
and  not  to  Chapel.  The  house  is  empty  now.  and  it's 
a  nice  place  with  the  makings  of  a  good  garden.  You 
could  stable  four  hunters  there  if  you  put  on  a  roof  and 
knocked  up  a  few  loose  boxes,  and  the  land's  worth 

191 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

putting  stuff  into.  Barry  starved  it  and  overstocked 
it " 

Marcus  felt  his  mind  wander.  It  was  wonderful,  he 
thought,  this  power  to  invest  life  with  an  enormous 
sense  of  reality  and  permanence.  He  had  lived  much 
and  quickly,  particularly  of  late,  and  yet  his  Uncle 
Ilardress  made  him  feel  as  if  he  was  a  mere  illusion 
out  of  a  world  of  illusions,  set  outside  the  minute  and 
imvarying  life  that  surrounded  him  with  its  effect  of 
immortal  immutability.  He  was  oddly  affected  by  his 
uncle's  voice,  his  pale  eyes,  and  vague  determination  to 
go  on  through  the  unending  details  of  a  long  story  of 
wrong  and  irritation.  Evidently  he  had  told  it  many 
times  already,  and  the  whole  of  Marcus  Janover's  own 
sense  of  life  became  dulled  and  subconscious;  he  had 
returned  out  of  the  storm  and  had  been  blown  into  the 
hall,  and  he  was  part  of  the  very  storm  itself,  but  his 
return  was  ludicrously  altered  into  a  sudden  stepping 
backwards  into  a  past  which  surrounded  Hardress 
Sheridan;  it  was  not  of  any  kin  to  his  own  past,  but 
it  held  and  gagged  him  effectually, 

Hesper  had  returned  to  her  place  on  the  arm  of  her 
father's  chair.  She,  too,  knew  the  hopelessness  of 
interruption.  Interruptions  merely  meant  a  fresh  be- 
ginning at  the  beginning  and  only  prolonged  the  narra- 
tive, and  for  the  moment  she  did  not  wish  for  more 
than  she  already  had.  Marcus  was  there,  and  though 
he  hardly  spoke,  his  actual  presence  was  sufficient  hap- 
piness. Every  now  and  then  he  glanced  towards  her, 
and  his  look  met  hers  like  light  on  water  as  he  recog- 
nized her  inexhaustible  freshness,  and  smothered  down 
the  keen  pang  in  his  heart. 

"  Oh,   I   tell   you,   Marcus,"   Hardress   concluded, 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  things  are  in  a  bad  way  over  here.  All  this  talk  of 
Home  Rule  is  just  another  name  for  socialism,  an- 
archy, and  spoliation."  He  looked  very  dignified  and 
distressed  indeed  as  he  summed  up  the  situation. 
"  We're  going  under.  Every  year  the  times  are  worse, 
and  there's  nothing  to  do  but  just  watch  things  go  to 
ruin." 

Marcus  stirred  in  his  chair  and  said  nothing  in  reply. 

"  If  England  gives  them  Home  Rule  and  sells  the 
Loyal  North,  it  will  be  the  biggest  crime  ever  recorded 
in  history ;  but  England  won't.  They're  sensible  peo- 
ple over  there,  and  they  won't  lend  any  heed  to  what  a 
pack  of  low-class  Members  of  Parliament  say.  They 
aren't  going  to  hand  the  country  over  to  a  mob  of 
priests  and  blackguards.  Papists  in  every  ofiice  and 
Papists  in  every  job  —  damned  rascals  to  a  man,  and 
the  scum  of  the  country." 

Marcus  got  up  and  warmed  his  hands  at  the  blaze. 
"  English  brains  are  the  best?  "  he  asked.  "  Particu- 
larly the  Nonconformist  brain?  All  the  same,  Uncle 
Hardress,  I  don't  believe  that  what  Manchester  thinks 
today  Ireland  will  think  either  tomorrow  or  next  day." 

Hardress  grunted  dissatisfaction  and  looked  at  the 
clock.  "  Time  to  dress  for  dinner,"  he  said,  and  he 
walked  slowly  up  the  wide  staircase. 

"  He  has  gone  on  saying  things  until  he  believes 
them,"  said  Hesper,  watching  her  father  out  of  sight. 
"  He  is  changed,  Mark  —  one  feels  that,  somehow,  and 
it  makes  one  very  sad." 

'*  But  you  mustn't  be  sad."  Marcus  put  his  arms 
round  her.  "  I  can't  bear  it,  Hest.  I  want  you  al- 
ways to  be  happy."  He  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her. 
"  Always  you  must  be  in  a  safe  world  where  the  sun 

193 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

is  bright  and  the  flowers  are  blossoming  —  always  fair 
skies  for  you,  my  Heart." 

He  left  her  reluctantly,  and  with  Taffy  at  his  heels 
went  up  the  staircase  to  his  room,  his  quick  energetic 
step  following  upon  his  uncle's  weary  footsteps  in 
strange,  sudden  contrast. 

A  whole  week  passed  which  Marcus  dedicated  to 
perfect  happiness,  and  during  that  time  he  would  not 
look  ahead.  As  the  sunset  of  each  day  came  he  told 
himself  that  tomorrow  he  would  end  it  all,  and  yet 
when  each  fresh  day  came  he  postponed  the  saying  of 
cruel  words. 

The  weather  set  in  stormy  and  held  them  in  the  big 
draughty  house,  rain  dashing  against  the  windows,  the 
trees  creaking  and  groaning  outside.  Rain  over  the 
woods  and  the  lake  and  the  river,  rain  in  the  heavy 
clouds  brooding  low  upon  the  mountains,  rain  every- 
where outside  in  the  green  world  under  a  dark  sky. 
The  long  room,  with  its  faded  early  Victorian  effect 
and  its  odds  and  ends  of  furniture,  looked  bright  in 
the  light  of  a  blazing  log  fire,  and  Hesper,  curled  up  in 
the  corner  of  a  deep  chesterfield,  thought  that  Paradise 
would  compare  but  badly  with  the  long  room  just  then. 

Marcus,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  looked 
down  at  her. 

"  I  love  you,  Hest,"  he  said.  "  I  wonder  if  even  I 
can  realize  how  much." 

"  I  do  realize,"  she  said  gravely.  "  You  see,  Mark, 
you  have  your  life,  and  I  have  hours  and  hours  when 
I  have  nothing  to  do  only  to  think  and  think  about  you. 
And  then  I  make  up  stories  about  the  future,  and 
stories  about  us,  and  we  go  to  all  sorts  of  places  that 

194 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

I  want  to  see,  and  we  live  the  most  wonderful  life." 
She  waved  her  hand  in  the  air.  "  We  have  adventures, 
and  we  camp  and  live  in  caravans,  and  the  pure  joy  of 
being  alive  is  through  every  bit  of  all  my  stories." 

Marcus  sat  down  beside  her  and  took  both  her  hands 
in  his. 

"  And  those  are  your  dreams,  Hest?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  a  little  touch 
of  fear  in  her  eyes. 

"  And  there  are  no  gaps  where  life  leaks  out  and 
.where  anything  goes  wrong?  " 

Hesper  laid  her  head  against  his  shoulder. 

"  I  don't  suppose  that  it  could  be  all  perfect.  We 
are  too  restless  and  intemperate,  you  and  I,  Mark. 
We  would  break  things  ourselves  at  times,  I  suppose, 
dear  Mark,  but  then  we'd  build  them  again  and  make 
them  even  better  than  they  were  before." 

Marcus  sat  very  still  crushing  her  hands  in  his. 

"  Hesper,"  he  said,  and  he  caught  her  close  to  him 
and  kissed  her  with  desperate  violence.  "  Hesper, 
Hesper  —  oh,  Hesper,  I've  taken  this  bit  of  happiness 
here  and  now  with  you  because  I  couldn't  do  without 
it,  but  it  would  have  been  a  better  thing  for  you  if  I 
had  never  come  back  to  you.  Oh,  my  Girl,  I  haven't 
anything  to  offer  you,  not  anything." 

The  storm  beat  and  rattled  on  the  windows  and 
drove  the  oncoming  dusk  before  it,  lighted  with  pale 
watery  yellow  that  reflected  itself  in  the  wet  sodden 
land. 

"  Not  anything  ?  You,  Mark  ?  Oh,  my  dearest, 
don't  talk  like  that  to  me.  You  know  that  it  is  only 
the  chosen  who  can  give,  and  all  my  heart  is  between 
your  hands.     Only  you  could  ever  hold  it,  because 

195 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

your  name  is  there,  my  dear,  and  I  don't  like  you  to 
talk  like  this." 

He  strained  her  to  him  with  force  and  kissed  her 
mouth  and  eyes. 

"  Hesper,"  he  said  again,  "  Hesper,  I  think  that  life 
is  almost  intolerably  cruel  —  unbelievably  so.  Here 
we  are,  you  and  I,  and  our  happiness  is  with  us ;  I  can 
hold  all  I  want  on  earth  in  my  arms,  and  yet  there  is 
no  use  in  it.  You  must  hear  what  I  have  to  say,  little 
Hest  —  no  use  at  all  in  all  our  love  and  all  our 
hope." 

"  But  I  can  wait."  She  leaned  back  and  looked  up, 
her  eyes  strong  and  steady.  "  I'm  not  one  of  the 
flimsy  sort,  Mark,  I'm  one  of  the  kind  that  goes  on 
and  on  and  can  stand  training."  She  gave  a  little 
laugh.  "  I'll  not  break  down  in  the  first  trial  gallop, 
so  just  don't  let  these  ideas  come  into  your  head. 
Money  —  well,  I  suppose  one  must  have  some,  but 
after  all  that  is  merely  a  matter  for  patience." 

Marcus  released  her  hands  and  pushed  her  gently 
back  against  the  cushions. 

"  You'd  stand  any  sort  of  reasonable  test  or  anything 
pretty  well  except  one  or  two  things.  Do  you  believe 
that  I  love  you?  " 

Hesper  nodded  silently. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  I  want  you  more  than  anything 
on  God's  whole  earth,  and  that  you  have  done  more 
for  me  than  any  woman  ever  yet  did  for  a  man?  " 

"  I  believe  you  think  I  have." 

**  Do  you  believe  that  your  love  for  me  is  my  whole 
and  only  hope  in  life.  Hest?  Schone  Seelc,  do  you 
realize  the  utter  truth  of  every  word  I  have  said  to 
you?" 

196 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  I  do,  Mark." 

"  And  knowing  all  this,  do  you  —  can  you  think 
that  I  should  ever  say  that  my  position  is  hopeless  if 
I  did  not  know  the  awful,  damnable  truth  of  what  I 
tell  you?" 

Hesper  leaned  forward  suddenly  against  his  re- 
straining hands. 

"  Mark,  Mark,  you  can't  mean  it  —  oh,  Mark,  you 
could  not  break  my  heart." 

"Listen,  Hest,"  he  said  quietly.  **  I've  got  to  make 
it  plain."  He  got  up  and  walked  away  from  her  to 
the  window,  where  the  lonely  distant  stars  of  hillside 
lights  were  shining  in  the  twilight.  Something  in  their 
loneliness  seemed  to  comfort  him  and  quiet  the  storm 
of  wild  passion  that  raged  in  his  heart. 

"  I've  got  work  to  do,"  he  spoke  very  slowly  and 
with  painful  clearness,  "  but  it's  a  dirty  job." 

"  What  do  I  care?  "  She  ran  to  his  side  and  caught 
his  hand  in  hers,  holding  it  to  her  cheek.  "If  you 
committed  every  crime  there  is,  it  would  make  no  dif- 
ference to  me,  Mark.  I  should  love  you  just  the 
same." 

"  I  can't  tell  you,  Hest.  If  I  could  —  well,  you 
might  understand  it  all;  but  it  makes  such  an  awful 
difference.  To  begin  with  it  means  separation  for  a 
very  long  time,  perhaps  for  always.  I  may  not  come 
back.  Could  you  believe  that  I  was  kept  from  you  by 
something  that  I  was  unable  to  avoid,  even  if  I  never 
wrote  ?  " 

"  I  will  never  change."     Hesper  stood  quite  still. 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing,"  he  said  sadly.  "  I  can 
tell  no  one." 

Hesper  leaned  her  elbows  on  the  window-sash  and 
197 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

looked  out  long  and  intently.  She  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve that  she  was  suffering  acutely.  It  did  not  seem 
real,  or  that  she  and  the  Hesper  of  five  minutes  back 
were  one  and  the  same. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  these  things,  but  I  know 
that  there  are  lots  of  men  who  don't  race  straight ;  but 
their  wives  love  them  just  the  same." 

In  spite  of  his  pain  Marcus  almost  smiled ;  the  Irish 
sympathy  in  her  plea  was  unspeakably  pathetic  to  his 
ears. 

**  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you,"  he  said,  putting 
his  hands  on  her  shoulders.  "  But  I'm  thinking,  Hest, 
that  it's  better  for  you  to  forget," 

Her  ashy  whiteness  frightened  him  and  he  tight- 
ened his  grasp.     "  If  you  could  forget " 

"  Forget  f "  Her  lips  parted  and  the  word  came 
like  a  sigh.  *'  Marcus,  I  love  you.  Don't  you  under- 
stand?" 

Hesper  put  her  hands  up  to  his  face  and  touched  his 
hair. 

"  Come  and  sit  down,"  she  said  gently,  and  once 
again  they  returned  to  the  old  battered  sofa  near  the 
fire. 

"  You  must  go,  Mark  —  and  I  don't  know  where 
you  are  going  —  but  I  know  that  for  some  reason  you 
must  go.''  She  sat  and  gazed  at  the  flame,  her  eyes 
full  of  thought  as  though  she  watched  him  climbing 
tipwards  and  away  from  the  known  road,  beyond  the 
lonely  highermost  tree-line,  far  from  tlie  beaten  track 
made  by  other  men.  He  was  going  to  some  post  of 
danger,  and  going  to  meet  stumblings  and  mistakes 
and  temptations  by  the  way,  and  just  then  she  knew 
that  the  only  thing  she  could  do  for  him  was  to  crush 

198 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

down  her  own  great  tearing  anguish  and  try  to  send 
him  gladly  out.  This  was  not  an  hour  for  self,  and 
it  was  not  an  hour  for  her  to  cry  to  him  that  she  could 
not  let  him  go,  that  she  must  know  what  he  was  going 
to  do  if  he  left  her  to  long  aching  silence.  The  brave- 
ness  of  nature  was  with  Hesper  Sheridan,  and  a  great 
wide  understanding  that  is  like  the  strong  heather  hills. 
The  sun  and  the  winds  that  had  been  her  companions 
helped  her  not  to  shrink  in  the  obscure  and  terrible 
moment  that  had  come  to  her  like  a  thief  in  the  night. 
She  grasped  the  life  of  that  moment  with  both  hands 
as  she  had  often  held  a  bolting  thoroughbred  when 
hounds  broke,  and  conquered  the  longing  she  felt  to 
cling  to  him  with  tears.  The  women  of  her  race  had 
not  sent  their  men  out  with  tears,  and  now  that  Mar- 
cus was  going,  and  going,  it  appeared,  with  a  definite 
and  unknown  motive  claiming  him,  she  called  herself 
to  play  her  part. 

"  You  must  go,"  she  said  after  a  long  silence.  "  It 
doesn't  matter  if  I  know  why  or  if  I  know  nothing. 
What  difference  will  it  make,  Mark?  If  you  do  not 
write  I  will  understand,"  she  turned  her  eyes  towards 
his,  "  because  I  know  that  you  love  me." 

Marcus  was  silent,  but  he  watched  her  face  intently. 

"  Think  of  me  as  you  might  think  of  the  old  house. 
Something  that  doesn't  change,  but  stands  always  in 
the  same  place,  with  the  same  rooms  and  furniture, 
and  the  same  lamps  every  night." 

Her  voice  was  quite  firm  and  calm,  and  a  light  that 
was  almost  divine  broke  over  her  whole  face,  intensi- 
fying its  sweetness. 

"  I  will  ask  you  nothing,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  I 
love  you  far  too  well  to  love  you  wisely;  I  hate  wise 

199 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

love,  Mark,  and  I  know  both  what  I  can  and  what  I 
will  do." 

"  It  may  be  years  —  I  may  never  come  back."  Mar- 
cus took  her  hands  again.  "  Think  what  that  means, 
Hest.  Think  of  the  long  summers  and  the  evenings 
when  love  seems  everywhere  in  the  flowers  and  the 
trees  and  the  singing  of  the  birds.  Other  men  will 
love  you  as  I  love  you  and  as  Eitel  loves  you " 

She  tore  her  hands  away  quickly  and  her  face 
changed. 

"  Mark,  Eitel  is  not  in  this  mystery  ?  Tell  me  that 
he  is  neither  persuading  you  nor  advising  you." 

"  Eitel  has  nothing  to  do  with  it."  Janover  spoke 
bitterly. 

Hesper  settled  herself  back  in  her  corner.  "  I  like 
Eitel,"  she  said,  "  so  long  as  I  can  keep  out  the  bogies 
that  make  me  afraid  of  him;  for  I  am  afraid  of  noth- 
ing else,  Mark,  not  even  of  you  and  your  future,  not 
of  any  single  thing  on  earth.  I'm  not  good  at  lots  of 
things,  but  I  am  good  at  sticking  things  out  to  the 
finish.  Did  you  ever  notice  the  brass  banisters? 
Look  at  them  when  you  go  down,  and  you  won't  ever 
again  talk  of  my  loving  any  one  else  but  you.  I  stuck 
it  over  those  banisters,  and  I've  been  cleaning  them 
now  for  " —  she  paused  and  counted  — "  for  very 
nearly  ten  years." 

Marcus  came  behind  her  and  put  his  arms  round 
her  shoulders. 

"  And  it  is  I  who  must  shut  the  door,  Hest." 

**  And  I  who  will  open  it  again." 

"  But  there  is  no  hope." 

"  So  they  said  about  the  banisters."  She  got  up. 
"I  shall  talk  no  more  of  this,  Mark;  there  is  nothing 

200 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

I  could  say,  not  anything  that  will  tell  you  more,  and 
there  is  nothing  you  can  say  to  me  that  will  change 
me.  If,  when  you  have  been  away  for  twenty  years 
or  so,  and  you  want  to  come  back,  you  ever  wonder  — 
just  think  of  Ottway  Sheridan's  brass  banisters. — 
Look,  the  evening  has  cleared  and  the  stars  are  up. 
We'll  go  round  to  the  stables  and  have  a  look  at  the 
hunters.'' 

And  all  the  time  Hesper  Sheridan's  heart  was  break- 
ing unobtrusively  in  a  still,  concentrated  agony  of 
pain. 


20I 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MARCUS  JANOVER  had  no  need  to  burrow 
deep  into  the  questions  that  tore  the  heart  of 
Ireland  early  in  the  year  of  1914.  His  own  old  knowl- 
edge of  the  people  stood  by  him,  and  when  he  began  to 
talk  a  little  to  the  men  who  had  known  him  as  a  boy 
he  caught  sight  of  their  vision  through  their  eyes. 
Ireland  was  his  country,  and  her  freedom,  her  happi- 
ness, and  her  good  stood  for  a  great  ideal  to  him. 

He  left  Ardshane  for  a  time  and  went  to  a  small 
hotel  on  a  wind-beaten  cliff  at  Ardbeg,  and  with  the 
chariot  clouds  and  the  wind  and  the  sea  all  racing  in 
the  eternal  freshness  of  their  being,  Marcus  spent  his 
time  in  semi-solitude.  Again  and  again  he  felt  the 
strange  sensation  of  knowing  that  he  was  living  in  a 
world  of  fable  people  with  dreamers  and  inhabited  by 
a  shouting  buoyant  wind,  that  now  and  then  forsook 
the  shores  of  Ardbeg  and  left  them  to  grey  misty  days 
of  ghostly  mystery.  He  wondered  at  the  contrast  of 
the  peaceful  innocence  of  the  land,  at  the  persistent 
haunting  presence  of  things  unseen,  set  against  his  own 
reason  for  being  there  and  its  sinister  intent.  Even  to 
think  of  war  and  its  anguish  dragging  its  hideous  shape 
across  the  little  lives  that  lived  and  died  in  Ardbeg  was 
grotesque  and  ghastly  beyond  anything  he  could  picture. 

The  hotel  was  a  battered  house,  covered  with  white 
plaster  that  had  fallen  from  it  here  and  there.  A 
white  flag-staff  stood  in  a  neglected  flower-bed  in  front 
of  the  entrance,  yet  in  spite  of  its  desolation  it  was  not 

202 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

without  some  dignity  and  careless  charm.  Inside  it 
was  ugly,  roomy,  and  full  of  dust,  the  merest  hostel  for 
well-to-do  fishermen  who  paid  liberally  and  were  not 
troubled  with  aesthetic  prejudice.  Above  Ardbeg,  in 
the  hills  over  the  sea,  was  a  line  of  lakes,  and  behind 
again,  a  soaring  range  of  mountains  guarded  the  bay. 
On  all  sides,  cut  across  by  the  lonely  road,  lay  miles 
and  miles  of  soft  brown  bog. 

Marcus  knew  Moran,  the  proprietor  of  the  Hotel, 
since  his  own  boyhood,  and  it  was  to  Moran  he  came 
to  ask  questions,  knowing  he  would  get  answers  that 
he  could  depend  upon. 

Sitting  in  the  deserted  bar  at  night,  Moran  talked 
freely  to  Marcus,  and  told  him  many  disquieting 
things.  He  was  deeply  engaged  in  gun  running;  for 
his  hotel  was  conveniently  situated,  and  he  possessed  a 
steam  launch  which  could  evade  the  vigilance  of  de- 
stroyers that  now  hung  constantly  around  the  coast. 

"  It's  the  North,"  said  Moran  doggedly,  "  not  the 
South  that's  calling  down  the  thunder.  Look  at  the 
preparations  they've  made ;  the  newspapers  say  they've 
one  man  one  rifle  up  there  in  Ulster,  and  a  machine  gun 
to  a  company."  His  dark  eyes  smouldered  with  sup- 
pressed rage.  "  Half  our  men  don't  want  trouble,  the 
very  best  of  them.     Shutting  their  eyes  and  saying  that 

they  won't  believe   it  possible "     He   lifted   his 

hand  in  angry  despair.  "Who  wants  bloodshed? 
Not  the  Nationalists;  but  they  know  up  there  in  Bel- 
fast that  to  get  a  man  to  fight  for  you  is  the  way  to 
make  him  your  best  friend." 

Marcus  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"Who  did  they  send  out  to  South  Africa?"  went 
on   Moran,   leaning   forward   over  the   zinc   counter. 

20.^ 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  And  there  was  never  a  war  yet  that  was  more  dead 
against  our  National  principles ;  but  the  boys  went. 
Climbed  the  walls  of  the  barracks  at  night  to  enlist 
so's  they  might  be  in  the  row;  and  every  one  of  the 
Militia  were  off  to  Table  Bay  cheering  like  mad,  while 
the  North  was  sending  her  dozens  to  our  hundreds. 
Oh,  it's  a  waste  of  breath  going  over  it  all  and  all." 

"Belfast  means  something  definite  —  even  if  it's 
only  a  good  bit  of  bluff."  said  Marcus.  "  And  they've 
made  a  fine  bid  for  English  sympathy." 

"  'Tis  they  are  the  crafty  thieves."  Moran's  face 
was  dark,  "But  we'll  sweep  them  yet,  they  and  their 
Boyne  Water,  There's  some  over  there  in  America 
that  will  learn  them  something;  and  there  are  a  few  of 
the  gentry,  like  yourself,  who  will  stand  in  with  the 
green  flag." 

Marcus  wondered  how  many  of  his  own  class  would 
stand  distrust,  opposition,  slander,  and  hostility;  but 
his  eyes  were  set  upon  the  heavier  clouds  beyond  those 
that  menaced  Ireland. 

"  You  think  that  the  Irish  Volunteers  will  fight?  " 

"  After  the  first  shot  is  fired  in  Antrim  the  country 
will  be  up.  Listen,  Master  Marcus,  and  I'll  tell  you 
the  truth.  You  can't  patch  that  kind  of  a  hole  with 
parliamentary  papers.  We're  quiet  enough  and  con- 
tented enough  in  our  own  way,  and  we  want  our  due 
without  bloody  murder,  but  let  one  of  them  Grangers 
loose  off  his  rifle,  and  there'll  be  no  keeping  the  men 
within  doors.  When  Ireland's  up  she's  up,  and  she'll 
lay  down  life  after  life  till  the  bogs  are  red,  and  that's 
what  Carson  is  playing  at  as  if  it  was  a  game  of  hur- 
ley at  a  Feis."  He  lowered  his  voice  a  little,  and  bent 
his  heavy  shoulders.     "  Night  after  night  the  boys  do 

204 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

be  drilling  in  the  fields  beyond  Monamore,  and  they 
come  there  in  their  hundreds.  And  the  talk!  God  be 
with  us,  I  can  recall  the  old  Fenian  days,  and  'twould 
make  you  young  again  to  hear  them.  Oh,  'tis  quiet 
and  orderly  enough  on  the  surface ;  but  when  the  flood 
is  full,  let  them  look  to  it,  Master  Marcus,  let  them 
look  to  it." 

]\Iarcus  fiddled  with  a  little  bit  of  string  he  had  un- 
tied from  a  parcel  of  books. 

"  Is  this  hatred  of  England  a  real  genuine  feeling? 
How  much  of  it  is  talk?  " 

Moran  replenished  the  glass  in  front  of  Marcus. 
"  'Tis  a  wonderful  small  drink  you  do  be  having,"  he 
said,  going  back  to  his  place.  "■  But  as  to  what  you're 
after  saying,  there's  anger  abroad  today,  and  maybe 
there'll  be  more  tomorrow;  but  it's  only  justice  we 
want.  There's  always  love  in  the  Irish  for  the  old 
stock  that  they  knew  since  all  began,  and  we  don't  take 
to  the  new.  No  tramping  will  tramp  that  out.  None 
of  us  want  to  be  shooting  landlords  now,  we've  got 
beyond  all  that.  '  Don't  be  shooting  the  Irish,'  is  what 
I  say  when  the  lads  come  in  here  to  me,  *  keep  your 
bullets  for  Carson's  army  and  the  English  in  fair  fight,' 
and  that's  how  they  take  the  notion  themselves.  It's 
not  the  police  now,  IMaster  jMarcus,  for  the  police  are 
as  good  Nationalists  as  the  rest." 

Marcus  tied  two  ends  of  the  string  neatly  together 
and  pulled  them  tight. 

"  And  do  you  think  they'd  fire  Ardshane  and  the 
rest  of  the  houses  about?  " 

"  There's  men  who  have  seen  their  own  thatches 
burnt  over  their  heads  who  have  long  memories; 
there's  men  who  have  seen  their  doors  taken  oflf  the 

205 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

hinges  and  thrown  into  the  blaze;  and  the  wide  world 
is  a  cruel  sort  of  a  home,  Master  Marcus,  so  there 
would  be  an  odd  one  here  and  there  who  might  be  for 
doing  as  they  was  done  by  in  the  old  days,  if  it  wasn't 
for  Miss  Hesper.  Still,  I'd  be  saying  that  Mister 
Hardress  will  be  safe  enough,  for  the  people  don't 
mean  ill." 

"  But  England,"  said  Marcus,  looking  into  the  turf 
fire  that  burned  on  the  right  of  the  curtained  door  of 
the  bar.  "  Suppose,  for  instance.  England  was  at  a 
disadvantage  —  if  Germany  tried  invasion,  and  she 
was  cornered, —  would  Ireland  turn  her  rifles  on  to  the 
invaders?  " 

Moran's  mouth  set  in  a  firm  line,  and  his  eyes  also 
turned  towards  the  rose-red  peat  that  smouldered 
flameless  on  the  hearth.  "  There's  been  fellows  around 
here,  and  I'm  telling  you  the  truth,  who  do  be  talking," 
he  said  grimly.  "  There's  Hartmann,  him  who  runs 
the  Creamery  business  and  comes  from  some  place  be- 
yond in  Germany,  who  put  me  the  same  question." 

"  Oh,  he  did,  did  he?  "  Marcus  replied  carelessly. 
"  Any  subscriptions  ?  '' 

Moran  pursed  up  his  mouth. 

"  If  a  man  likes  to  subscribe  I'm  not  the  one  to  deny 
him,  and  we  want  funds.  Hartmann  has  a  friend 
beyond  in  Antwerp  who  is  in  the  way  of  getting 
rifles " 

"  And  Hartmann  can  bring  packing-cases  with  new 
machinery  into  Ireland  via  Holland?  " 

"  How  well  you  knew."  Moran  laughed. 
"  Brayvo,  Master  Marcus." 

"  But  all  the  same  you've  not  said  what  you  think, 
Moran.     I'll  have  it  out  of  you,  you  old  devil." 

206 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Moran  grew  serious  and  moved  uncomfortably  on 
his  high  stool. 

"  Is  it  what  the  Volunteers  would  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,  what  they  would  do;  not  what  some  of  them 
have  said  they'd  do,  and  not  what  you  told  that  Ger- 
man Creamery  fellow  when  you  took  twenty  —  or  was 
it  fifty?  —  pounds  off  him.  You've  got  to  get  the 
funds,  and  they're  playing  the  same  game  up  North. 
Every  one  wants  funds,  and  if  a  bit  of  palaver  gets  a 
bit  for  the  Cause  —  well,  it  gets  it."  Marcus  leaned 
back  comfortably  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  full  of  sleepy 
laughter,  "  By  Gad,  Moran,  you  are  a  crafty  old  fox, 
and  I  expect  you'll  get  a  bit  off  me  for  your  powder 
and  shot  before  you're  much  older." 

"  I'd  be  proud  of  your  name  on  my  list  if  it  was  a 
five-shilling  piece  you  gave,"  said  Moran. 

"  You're  getting  away  from  the  point."  Marcus 
pitched  the  knotted  string  into  the  fire  and  lighted  a 
cigarette.  '*  I'll  tell  you  what  /  think.  I  think  that 
the  old  hatred  of  Ireland  for  England  is  valid  and  real, 
and  that  she'd  let  her  go.  I  think  the  boys  would  come 
out,  right  enough,  and  collar  Ulster  standing  alone  and 
without  any  English  guns  to  assist  her.  I  think  the 
old  sense  of  wrong  and  injustice  would  flare  up  like  a 
bonfire  on  St.  John's  Eve,  and  that  they'd  accept  Ger- 
many's terms  if  she  made  them  a  fair  offer  and  stood 
for  National  freedom."  He  still  leaned  back  idly,  but 
his  voice  sounded  full  of  sudden  vigour  and  life. 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  after  a  time  Moran 
spoke. 

"  I'm  not  denying  that  there's  men  about  in  this  dis- 
trict who's  saying  the  selfsame  thing  as  yourself." 
His  face  was  grim  enough,  and  he  spoke  with  some 

207 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

bitterness  in  his  voice.  "  How  far  foreign  travel  has 
made  you  feel  as  you  may  feel,  to  be  speaking  that  way, 
would  be  presumption  on  my  part  to  say,  Master  Mar- 
cus, but  just  now  I  said  a  thing  to  you  that's  true  for 
me.  It's  not  living  together  makes  brothers  of  men  — 
God  knows  'tis  disunity  it  does  be  bringing  most  fre- 
quent—  but  it's  dying  side  by  side.  If  there  were  no 
Irish  soldiers,  no  Munster  Fusiliers,  no  Connaught 
Rangers,  no  Royal  Irish,  and  no  Leinsters,  you  could 
count  the  country  solid  for  anything  you  offered  that 
spelt  National  freedom  first.  But  if  there  is  anything 
in  this  talk  of  war,  and  there's  plenty  talk  though  you 
read  nothing  in  the  papers,  what  is  the  first  step? 
The  lads  from  the  country  will  go,  and  the  rest  will 
follow."  Moran's  eyes  grew  brooding  and  full  of 
thought  as  he  spoke  on.  "  What  quarrel  had  we  with 
them  Boer  farmers?  None;  but  the  regiments  went 
and  the  boys  were  mad  to  get  after  them.  If  Germany 
was  going  to  declare  war  tomorrow,  all  the  sense  that 
could  be  talked  wouldn't  be  worth  a  thraneen.  It 
would  be,  *  Shure  and  didn't  they  kill  my  brother  Mick, 
and  didn't  they  blind  the  two  eyes  of  Paddy?'  and 
that's  the  arguments  that  will  be  listened  to  against 
anything  that  you  or  I  could  say,  Master  Marcus :  and 
I'm  telling  you  I  don't  like  them  German  Protestants 
too  well  in  any  case.  'Tis  very  sudden-like  that 
they've  taken  to  this  great  friendliness." 

Marcus  stretched  his  arms  over  his  head. 

**  I  expect  you  told  the  German  fellow  something 
else," 

'*  He's  pleasant  spoken,  and  the  poor  creature  is 
simple,"  Moran  said,  relapsing  into  his  usual  placid 
manner.     "  Them  foreigners  is  alwa3^s  a  bit  queer,  but, 

208 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

sure,  his  money  is  as  good  as  the  next  one's ;  and  how 
do  1  know  what  we'd  all  be  doing  if  the  North  w^as  up 
and  the  South  was  up  and  Europe  itself  was  up?  " 

'*  And  meanwhile  you  pocket  his  cheque,  and  like 
the  cheery  old  Psalmist  you  fret  not  yourself  because 
of  evil-doers.  Good  man,  Moran."  Marcus  got  up 
from  his  chair. 

"  I'm  off  tomorrow,"  he  said,  his  eyes  on  a  picture 
of  Robert  Emmet  that  hung  over  the  mantelpiece. 
"  And  when  I  come  back  we'll  both  of  us  know  a  bit 
more  than  we  know  tonight." 

"  But  you'll  come  back,  sir,  when  the  first  shot  is 
fired  in  Antrim?  " 

"  Yes,  I'll  do  that,"  Marcus  said  from  the  door, 
"  and  you'll  see  big  things  doing  —  only  Ardshane  is 
to  stand  where  it  did." 

Marcus  walked  out  into  the  night,  and  on  down  the 
stony  path  to  the  sea.  He  felt  as  if  he  was  standing 
on  the  remotest  edge  of  life.  The  sound  of  the  waves 
and  the  rush  of  the  night  wind  hypnotized  his  thoughts, 
and  the  scudding  clouds  that  followed  a  clear  moon 
sailing  high  in  the  dark  blue  overhead  carried  him  be- 
yond himself  into  the  loneliness  of  desolation  that  is 
always  very  near  the  human  heart.  He  had  done  ex- 
actly what  he  intended  to  do  while  at  x\rdbeg,  and 
he  had  nothing  now  to  keep  him  in  Ireland  any  longer, 
nothing  but  his  own  desire  to  see  Hesper  again.  The 
sea  and  the  night  winds  spoke  to  him  of  her,  the  tender 
beauty  of  the  broken  reflections  on  the  wide  water 
that  rushed  landwards  to  his  feet,  the  silent  deserted 
world  —  all  was  full  of  Hesper,  and  the  spirit  of  the 
place  cried  out  to  him  of  her,  as  memory  cries  to  the 
living  of  the  loved  dead.     They  had  never  recurred  to 

209 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  talk  in  the  firelight,  and  Hesper  had,  by  some  won- 
derful power  of  her  own,  put  the  whole  of  life  into 
normal  proportion,  and  had  saved  and  helped  him  when 
he  could  not  help  himself.  She  had  understood,  and 
it  is  only  one  in  a  million  who  ever  understands,  when 
it  is  the  moment  to  watch  through  an  agonized  hour. 
The  rest  of  the  thousands  want  to  know  all  the  par- 
ticulars, become  doubtful  and  of  little  faith;  they  pray, 
preach,  or  lecture,  or  they  sleep  and  are  indifferent. 
Only  rare  love  can  watch  and  wait  and  stand  alone  and 
uncomforted  so  that  it  is  of  service  to  the  loved  one. 
Hesper  had  reached  the  great  heights  where  self  is  left 
far  behind,  and  she  had  accepted  what  Marcus  told  her 
without  question.  He  thought  of  his  way  of  under- 
standing men ;  he  could  count  upon  Eitel  von  Verlhof , 
and  he  could  usually  arrive  at  complete  comprehension 
of  his  fellows,  but  with  Hesper  it  was  all  different. 

Over  and  over  again  he  had  rehearsed  the  moment 
when  he  was  to  take  and  break  the  beauty  and  the  joy 
of  his  dream  and  hers,  and  yet  when  the  moment  came 
she  had  taken  it  into  her  wonderful  quiet  hands  and 
had  robbed  his  death  in  life  of  its  sting,  and  snatched 
all  victory  from  his  grave  of  oblivion ;  she  had  placed 
a  crown  of  stars  upon  their  love.  Her  fidelity  called 
all  the  soul  of  him  to  her,  and  under  the  drifting  clouds 
he  cried  to  her  across  the  distance.  Her  face  came 
clearly  to  him  like  dawn  out  of  the  moonlit  dark,  and 
the  magic  of  her  eyes  smiled  into  his.  For  one  mo- 
ment he  forgot  the  pain  rooted  deeply  in  his  heart. 
He  felt  very  clearly  the  beauty  and  vigour  of  Hesper's 
nature  must  conquer  seas  and  torrents  of  ill  fate,  and 
that  somehow  in  the  end  things  might  be  well  with 
them.     Usually  Marcus  thought  with  strong  faith  of 

2IO 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

his  own  future,  but  as  he  walked  along  the  level  hard 
sand  and  listened  to  the  breaking  waves,  he  disowned 
all  personal  claim.  Nothing  he  had  to  offer  could  be 
measured  against  what  Hesper  gave  without  hesitation, 
and  her  gift  would  never  lack  its  ultimate  reward. 
Hesper  would  not  be  saved  alone,  and  with  her  he 
must  arrive  at  the  goal,  "  one  of  those  citizens  who 
sacrifice  honour  and  conscience,  as  others  of  old  sacri- 
ficed their  lives,  for  the  good  of  their  country." 

An  invincible  premonition  came  to  him,  and  defeated 
his  old  habit  of  analysing  all  the  known  reason  for  his 
own  beliefs.  Sheer  through  his  consciousness  the  con- 
viction smote  in  upon  him  almost  with  violence,  and  he 
could  only  accept  it  as  a  certainty  that  somehow  and 
somewhere  in  this  world  where  he  now  stood,  he  and 
Hesper,  the  woman  who  held  his  heart,  and  Eitel  von 
Verlhof,  the  man  he  so  loved,  would  be  together  again 
in  an  hour  of  entire  fulfilment. 


211 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

M\RCVS  JANOVER  left  Ireland  rid  Belfast 
and  Fleetwood  without  going  back  to  Ard- 
sliane.  and  without  again  seeing  Hesper  Sheridan. 

The  morning  after  he  landed  in  England  she  got  his 
letter  by  the  late  post.  The  postman  blew  a  whistle  at 
a  cross-roads  down  the  long  drive  each  evening,  then 
he  waited  to  collect  any  outgoing  letters  there  might  be, 
and  delivered  the  post  for  Ardshane.  The  sound  of 
his  whistle  was  connected  permanently  in  the  mind  of 
Hesper  with  the  opening  and  shutting  of  some  unseen 
door,  for  evening  posts  in  the  country  are  the  great 
event  of  long  afternoons,  and  the  postman's  bicycle  was 
the  only  conveyance  that  passed  there  during  the  late 
winter  days. 

Hesper  had  tried  not  to  hear  the  whistle  ever  since 
Marcus  left  for  .\rdbeg,  and  yet  wherever  she  was  in 
the  house  or  stables  she  heard  it,  and  almost  before  she 
was  aware  of  it  she  was  speeding  down  between  the 
rows  of  fir-trees  and  rhododendron  to  ask  if  there  was 
anything  to  take  back.  Night  after  night  the  reply  had 
been  a  reluctant  negative.  Patrick,  the  letter-carrier, 
hated  to  disappoint  her,  and  though  she  smiled  cheer- 
fully at  him,  he  was  not  deceived. 

At  last,  when  January  suddenly  turned  for  a  day  or 
two  into  sheer  spring  softness  and  mildness,  and  Hes- 
per had  made  a  vow  that  she  would  send  Fagan  on  the 
next  occasion  that  the  whistle  shrilled  its  eerie  note 

212 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

through  the  darkness,  she  was  received  by  Patrick  with 
a  cheerful  greeting. 

'*  Sure  an'  I  have  one  for  yourself,  Miss  Hesper, 
and  two  that  looks  to  be  bills  for  the  Master." 

Hesper's  hands  shook,  but  she  lingered  a  moment  to 
ask  after  the  Patrick  family  of  ten. 

In  the  days  since  Marcus  left,  reality  had  begim  to 
weigh  down  upon  her  mind,  and  the  vague  fear  and 
perplexity  that  folded  itself  about  J^larcus  overcast  her 
thoughts  like  a  heavy  shadow.  She  fought  against 
mental  oppression,  the  distracting  sensation  of  help- 
lessness that  comes  from  the  presence  of  an  abstract, 
formless  idea,  which  haunts  the  brain  with  endless 
suggestions.  She  knew  that  she  could  face  all  known 
possibilities,  but  the  unknown,  without  form  or  shape, 
was  torment  beyond  bearing.  Vast  and  again  vast  and 
utterly  unexplored,  the  nightmare  of  vague  fear  filled 
and  loaded  her  mind.  The  ways  of  the  common  earth 
ended  for  her  at  the  feet  of  Marcus  Janover,  and  all 
beyond  was  pathless,  limitless,  and  lonely. 

Marcus  was  going  into  a  life  as  entirely  unknown  to 
her  as  though  he  were  going  into  the  Astral  plane  or 
some  undiscovered  region  of  the  spirit,  and  all  she 
could  do  for  him  was  to  remain  changeless  in  the  midst 
of  changing  things,  and  sit  and  watch  with  earnest, 
steadfast  eyes  for  his  possible  return,  always  sure  and 
tranquil,  watching  and  watching  through  months  and 
maybe  years ;  unable  to  catch  any  sound  or  hint  of  what 
he  did  to  fill  those  silent  days,  unable  even  dimly  to 
guess  at  what  was  befalling  him  or  whither  his  destiny 
was  carrying  him. 

As  she  took  the  letter  from  Patrick,  her  fingers 
thrilled,  and  she  felt  the  weariness  of  the  days  slide  off 

213 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

her  young  shoulders.  She  had  something  tangible  be- 
tween her  hands,  and  she  raced  back  to  the  house,  the 
dogs  barking  wildly  before  her  in  the  pale  moonlight 
that  shone  on  the  avenue,  turning  it  white  as  a  silver 
stream  between  the  firs.  The  blood  throbbed  in  her 
veins,  and  the  relaxation  from  past  tension  was  sud- 
denly and  swiftly  sweet  and  precious  to  her. 

Laying  the  letters  for  Hardress  on  the  table,  she 
crossed  the  hall  and  went  light-footed  up  the  staircase 
to  the  long  room.  Her  haste  was  too  great  to  let  her 
hght  a  lamp  or  even  a  candle,  so  she  poked  the  logs 
into  a  bright  blaze  and.  kneeling  close  to  the  flames, 
opened  the  letter  and  read  it  carefully.  It  scarcely  cost 
her  a  pang  to  read  that  Marcus  had  left  without  coming 
back.  She  knew  that  he  had  gone,  by  some  indescrib- 
able process  of  telepathy  that  made  her  aware  of 
change  when  it  touched  his  life.  All  that  she  most 
desired  to  know  lay  in  the  few  written  words. 

Never  doubt  that  I  love  you.  It  is  stupid  and  weak  to 
grumble  at  Fate's  decrees,  and  I  must  abide  by  the  choice 
in  life  I  have  made.  Some  day,  if  all  is  well  and  I  ever  do 
get  back,  I  will  tell  you  every  circumstance  as  honestly  as  I 
can.  What  I  do  I  am  doing  from  conviction,  not  for  money 
or  from  any  other  motive.  Whatever  else  you  think,  always 
believe  this  of  me.  Perhaps  I  may  never  clear  myself  in 
your  eyes,  but  I  pray  you  to  withhold  all  judgment  of  me 
until  you  fully  understand.  Only  believe  that  I  love  you, 
Ilest,  and  that  you  are  my  link  with  all  that  is  best,  all  that 
is  good  or  worthy,  in  all  my  life.  You  are  the  only  woman 
I  have  ever  loved  in  simple  honest  truth,  and  until  we  meet, 
ray  Girl,  wherever  it  be  or  in  which  of  God's  worlds  it  may 
be.  I  am  yours. 

Hesper  folded  her  arms  on  the  faded  old  sofa  cush- 
ions, and  the  tears  blinded  her  eyes. 

214 


iThe  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

She  could  only  think  at  that  moment  that  she  might 
never  see  Marcus  again,  and  that  she  loved  him  with 
all  the  force  of  her  whole  soul.  She  did  not  try  to 
fathom  the  strangeness  of  his  letter,  she  only  called 
back  the  memory  of  his  face  as  she  had  watched  the 
train  take  him  away  from  her,  not  realizing  that  the 
parting  bade  fair  to  be  eternal.  The  struggle  of  her 
young  passion  tore  and  spent  her;  it  was  her  hour  of 
weakness,  and  well  it  is  for  those  who  wear  through 
such  hours  alone. 

Outside  the  window  the  ivy  shone  in  the  hazy  moon- 
light and  tapped  with  ghostly  fingers  on  the  glass,  but 
Hesper  cared  nothing  whether  the  world  beyond  was 
dark  or  bright.  Marcus  loved  her,  she  was  certain  of 
that ;  but  the  sorrow  of  parting  and  absence  cut  her  like 
a  knife,  and  her  pain  weakened  all  her  forces,  and  for  a 
moment  she  tasted  an  utter  abandonment  and  lethargy 
as  of  coming  death.  Her  very  arms  were  weak  and 
limp,  and  her  strength  ebbed  from  her.  With  all  her 
force  she  cried  his  name  silently,  and  the  poor  human 
self  of  Hesper  Sheridan  lay  broken  against  the  dingy 
cushions. 

Youth  takes  its  agony  hard,  and  Hesper  had  not 
learnt  the  knowledge  that  life  teaches  later,  which 
brings  the  bearing  of  much  sorrow  to  something  ap- 
proaching a  fine  art  to  those  who  understand  life.  She 
had  not  yet  learnt  that  it  is  through  thought  that  all  the 
events  of  life  enter,  either  to  glorify  or  destroy;  and, 
so  that  thought  is  contained  by  the  deeper  understand- 
ing of  faith,  life's  fiercest  and  most  bitter  pain  can  be 
lifted  upwards  until  the  light  of  the  vision  luminous 
falls  upon  its  darkness,  and  it  becomes  one  with  the 

215 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

beauty   that   lies   eternally   around   the   human   soul. 

For  an  hour  the  mortal  part  of  Hesper  Sheridan  lay 
sobbing  her  heart  out  blindly.  Not  because  Marcus 
had  gone,  not  that  he  had  left  her  with  any  sick  hope- 
lessness of  disillusion  to  think  and  think  and  wear  her- 
self out  in  silence,  but  for  some  vague  and  great  misery 
that  swept  her  and  that  was  full  of  the  despair  as  of 
millions  of  human  hearts. 

After  a  time  she  got  up  and  looked  at  herself  in  the 
grey  mirror  over  the  fireplace,  and  her  mouth  ran  sud- 
denly into  an  odd  little  wistful  smile. 

"  I  am  a  holy  show,"  she  said  to  her  reflection,  "  and 
this  is  pretty  bad  business,  with  life  ahead  to  be  met 
and  got  through  somehow." 

"  Well,  Hesper,"  her  father's  voice  spoke  from  the 
door.     "  Have  you  been  asleep  ?  " 

"  No,  Dad,  I  was  only  wondering  about  wings,"  she 
said,  putting  her  arms  round  him.  "  I  expect  they  take 
what  old  Dr.  Larry  Murphy  calls  *  the  Hal  of  a  time  ' 
to  grow." 

"Wings?"  said  Hardress  in  astonished  horror. 
"  It's  only  angels  that  have  them,  I'm  told.  At  least 
I  heard  the  Bishop  say  that  old  blackguard  Carrigan 
had  them,  and  was  singing  in  Heaven." 

"  But  devils  have  them,"  said  Hesper,  laughing  as 
she  stood  away  in  the  shadows,  "  only  they  have  the 
leathery  kind,  like  bats.  I'll  make  my  own,  Dad,  out 
of  the  moonlight  mist,  and  tie  them  on  with  a  bit  of 
rainbow." 

Hardress  grunted  unsympathetically. 

"  It's  the  Sinn  Feiners  will  be  likely  to  give  me  a 
pair,  and  not  Dr.  Larry.  And  then  it  will  be  a  bad 
day  for  you,  Hesper,  thanks  to  Lady  Mary  and  her  fine 

216 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

promises.     I  tell  you  that  if  I  meet  her  I'll  give  her  the 
best  '  what  for  '  she  ever  yet  had." 

"  Do,  Dad,"  said  Hesper,  who  was  busy  with  the 
window  curtains. 

"  And  Marcus  never  took  the  farm."  Hardress  sat 
down  and  beat  the  logs  with  the  short  poker.  **  I 
thought  perhaps Well,  is  he  coming  back?  " 

"  Not  for  some  time."  The  cheerful  bright  voice 
quivered  a  little.     *'  He  doesn't  know  when." 

"  Humph!  "  said  her  father  with  a  hopeless  jerk  of 
his  shoulders.  "  That's  the  way,  that's  the  way !  And 
the  Dutch  feller?  I  liked  that  Dutch  feller;  there's 
something  solid  about  him,  and  he  knew  a  good  horse 
when  he  saw  one.  Any  talk  of  his  coming  to  see  a  bit 
of  sport  over  here  before  the  season  finishes?" 

"  He  isn't  a  Dutchman,  Dad,  he  is  a  German." 

"  One's  the  same  as  the  other,"  said  Hardress,  with 
a  liberal  disregard  of  foreign  nationalities.  *'  He's  a 
fine,  sound,  nice-spoken  man.     I'd  be  glad  to  see  him." 

"  He  is  with  his  regiment  at  Metz." 

**  Well,  drop  him  a  line,  or  perhaps  I'll  do  it  myself, 
and  suggest  a  bit  of  spring  racing." 

Hesper  clasped  her  hands  before  her  and  stood  look- 
ing across  the  room  at  the  little  liquid  pool  of  light 
held  by  the  old  square  of  looking-glass,  as  though  fas- 
cinated. 

"  But  if  the  Volunteers  are  out  and  there  is  civil 
war?  "  she  said,  forcing  herself  to  speak. 

"If  there  is  we'll  be  dead,  and  if  there  isn't  we'll  be 
at  Punchestown,"  said  Hardress  conclusively.  He 
was  a  man  of  few  ideas,  and  having  got  one  suddenly 
into  his  head,  it  remained  there  with  all  the  fixity  of 
the  Pyramids. 

217 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

**  Dad,  isn't  it  —  isn't  it  rather  headlong  of  yon?  " 
Once  again  Hardress  Sheridan  struck  the  logs. 
"  I'll  ask  him  if  I  like,"  he  said  irritably.  "  I'll  not  be 
a  child  in  my  own  house,  with  *  Do  as  you're  bid '  at 
every  turn  and  twist.  I  know  more  and  better  than 
you  do,  Hesper,  and  when  I  think  a  thing  is  advisable 
I'll  do  that  thing." 

Hesper  said  nothing  in  reply. 


218 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MARCUS  found  himself  in  a  sardonic  mood  when 
once  again  he  plunged  back  into  the  life  that 
was  now  his.  His  rooms  in  the  Mittelstrasse  were 
comfortable,  and  he  was  away  from  his  old  surround- 
ings, which  was  in  itself  a  relief,  as  it  jarred  upon  the 
nerves  of  Marcus  to  meet  with  Reynolds  coming  in 
and  going  out  of  the  old  quarters.  Reynolds  was  in- 
satiably inquisitive  and  full  of  importance,  and  he 
shrouded  all  he  did  in  grotesque  folds  of  mystery.  He 
had  spoken  seriously  to  Marcus,  in  the  tones  of  a  pa- 
tient elder  brother,  and  had  offered  to  "  put  things 
right  "  between  him  and  Lord  Shawford,  and  he  wore 
the  air  of  a  man  who  carries  State  secrets  in  every 
pocket  of  his  coat.  Moreover,  Reynolds  was  quite 
sure  that  he  was  doing  Marcus  a  very  good  turn  by 
still  adhering  to  his  ancient  friendship,  for  he  said  of 
himself,  "  If  1  am  anything,  I  am  loyal  " ;  and  though 
he  knew  no  special  reason  for  considering  Marcus  as 
an  outcast,  he  made  a  point  of  "  sticking  up  for  him  " 
that  gradually  led  to  a  vague  impression  that  Janover 
had  done  something  shady  and  that  Reynolds  had 
stood  between  him  and  open  disgrace.  It  was  a  bless- 
ing for  Marcus  to  feel  that  he  could  work  steadily  and 
without  interruption  while  he  remained  in  Berlin,  for 
he  was  well  aware  that  he  was  likely  to  be  sent  via 
Vienna  to  Budapest,  and  from  thence  to  Belgrade,  the 
scene  of  Reynolds'  own  diplomatic  adventures. 

He  had  made  friends  with  Sachs,  a  chemist  in  the 
219 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Aerial  Corps,  a  stout  pale  young  man  who  wore  spec- 
tacles, who  lodged  also  in  the  Mittelstrasse,  and  who 
in  all  his  life  had  never  been  amused  until  he  met  Jan- 
over.  Janover  amused  him  enormously ;  and  as  no 
one  else  had  ever  done  so,  Sachs  constantly  desired  the 
company  of  Marcus. 

It  was  known,  for  the  benefit  of  the  outside  public, 
that  Marcus  was  working  at  the  Record  Office,  that  he 
was  German  born,  though  of  English  parents,  brought 
up  in  Germany  and  naturalized,  and  that  he  could 
hardly  speak  as  much  English  as  Sachs  himself. 
Sachs,  being  far  set  from  any  way  of  knowing  where 
Marcus  had  formerly  lived  and  moved  and  had  his 
being,  was  entirely  content  with  the  explanation  of  his 
fellow-lodger's  way  of  living,  and  the  Record  Office 
accounted  for  the  fact  that  Janover  had  friends  and 
acquaintances  in  the  higher  walks  of  life. 

He  talked  incessantly  about  hydrogen  gas  and  oxy- 
gen gas  and  the  structural  fabric  of  Zeppelins.  For 
him  the  world  was  a  stupid  place  where  people  walked, 
and  his  conversation,  if  not  heavenly,  was  turned  en- 
tirely towards  the  heavens.  There  were  twelve  official 
airships  and  a  number  of  non-official  which  it  took 
Marcus  weeks  of  entertainment  to  discover.  Steadily 
and  persistently  he  amused  Sachs,  and  cursed  him 
roundly  when  he  talked  of  his  work  at  the  great  sheds. 

"  It  doesn't  interest  me,  Sachs,  you  old  Fischhdndler ; 
your  balloons  are  pure  foolishness.  Fly  to  London 
and  blow  up  '  Buckinghame  '  or  whatever  it's  called  — 
never.  And  your  formula,  your  stuff  that  is  lighter 
than  aluminum  and  which  is  dense  as  steel  —  I  know 
what  that  is  made  of,  and  it's  easy  to  get,  for  it's  made 
of  Sachs'  lies." 

220 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Marcus  was  lying  on  a  solid  and  hideous  sofa  which 
was  in  keeping  with  the  furniture  of  his  room.  It  was 
a  hot  day  and  the  flies  crowded  on  the  dingy  ceiling 
overhead. 

Sachs  looked  at  him  through  his  large  spectacles  and 
laughed.  It  amused  him  to  be  called  a  fishmonger, 
and  he  liked  the  way  Janover  swore  at  the  flies.  It 
suddenly  came  into  his  mind  that  he  also  could  be 
funny,  and  he  took  a  pocket-book  out  of  his  dirty 
waistcoat. 

"  There  is  the  formula."  he  said.  "  It  is,  oh,  so  easy 
to  understand !  England  and  France  would  give  thou- 
sands and  hundreds  of  thousands  for  it,  but  they  will 
never  get  it." 

"  And  yet  you  carry  it  around  with  you  on  your 
perspiring  body,"  said  Marcus,  taking  it  reluctantly 
and  looking  at  it  without  evincing  the  least  interest, 
"  There  are  dirty  marks  all  over  it.  I  have  counted 
six  —  steady,  man,  I  have  a  seventh " 

"  Give  it  back,"  said  Sachs  in  sudden  alarm.  "  It 
is  my  own  copy  from  here  " —  he  tapped  his  forehead. 
Marcus  held  it  out  of  his  reach,  puffing  up  smoke. 

*'  Stop,  I'll  disinfect  it  first.  So  that  is  worth 
more  than  a   Corot  and  a   Daubigny  or  a   Flemish 

Boucher "     He  rolled  it  into  a  ball  and  pitched 

it  at  Sachs. 

"  You  think  of  nothing  but  women,"  said  Sachs  irri- 
tably, smoothing  out  his  treasured  papers. 

Marcus  laughed  with  unrestrained  heartiness. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  gaily.  "  all  great  friends  of  mine.  I 
prefer  them  to  your  dirty  bits  of  paper.  But  go  on, 
Sachs.  You've  got  liquid  gas  and  filthy  gas  that 
chokes  you,  which  you  pack  into  cylinders,  and  you've 

221 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

got  tons  of  dynamite  to  drop  on  my  little  friends  in 
Paris.     You're  a  bad  man,  Sachs;  I  don't  like  you." 

Sachs  took  off  his  collar  and  threw  it  on  to  the  floor. 

"  Ach!  You  should  see  Heligoland,  that  kind  pres- 
ent from  our  dear  friends  the  English."  He  lighted 
his  pipe  and  his  raggy  blonde  moustache  lifted  with  the 
twisted  sneer  of  his  mouth.  "  There  are  sand  dunes 
there,  Janover,  and  the  wind  comes  whistling  like  a 
bird  straight  out  of  the  North  Sea,  and  all  around 
those  yellow  dunes,  that  go  up  and  down,  up  and 
down,  so  —  gentle  little  slopes,  very  beauti  f ul  I  think 
them,  and  there  are  our  great  sheds.  Gott!  it  is  won- 
derful. Barbed  wire  as  high  as  ten  —  twenty  feet 
between  the  guard-houses,  and  if  you  so  much  as  tip 
it  —  Zoom!  there  is  a  ringing  of  bells  inside  the  houses 
of  the  marine  guards." 

Marcus  closed  his  eyes. 

"  Go  on,  Sachs,  I  find  your  drone  most  soothing. 
It's  like  a  bumble  bee  in  a  butcher's  shop.  If  I  go  to 
sleep  don't  rouse  me." 

"  Beyond  the  barbed  wire  fence,  which  is  so  beauti- 
fully constructed,  you  meet  a  great  high  tower,  and  up 
there  near  the  sky  the  searchlights  swing  all  through 
the  dark  hours.  I  have  often  thought,"  said  Sachs, 
wiping  his  spectacles  emotionally,  "  that  they  are  like 
the  eyes  of  the  Kaiser  watching  his  loved  children." 

"  Hoch  dcr  Kaiser,"  said  Marcus  drowsily. 

"  By  means  of  large  polished  reflectors  the  light  is 
intensified  to  the  clearness  of  full  day.  Is  that  not 
clever,  Janover?  " 

"  I  call  it  an  act  of  supererogation,"  said  Marcus, 
casting  the  horsehair  bolster  from  his  sofa.  "  The 
days  are  too  long  already." 

222 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  There  is  the  meteorological  department,  and  there 
are  sheds  and  sheds,  Janover,  and  there  are  no  forts." 

Marcus  gave  a  slight  snore  and  woke  suddenly. 

"I  apologize,  Sachs.  Where  were  we?  We  had 
got  as  far  as  the  Heligoland  fortresses,  which  no  one 
has  ever  seen  except  those  dull  dogs  who  are  actually 
in  the  heart  of  the  know.' 

"  And  I  tell  you,"  said  Sachs  — "  for  though  you  are 
an  amusing  friend,  you  are  in  no  other  ways  very  igno- 
rant and  stupid  —  that  there  are  no  forts  now  in  Heli- 
goland. Our  great  Bismarck  made  a  fool  of  Lord 
Salisbury,  a  man  who  was  head  of  the  English  Reichs- 
tag, and  at  first  there  were  forts  and  big  guns  to  blow 
up  the  English  Navy,  but  now,  my  friend  Janover, 
there  are  forts  that  fly."  Sachs  laughed  and  looked 
quite  bright  as  he  thought  of  it.  *'  Forts  up  in  the 
sky  with  Diesel  engines,  and  which  also  guard  the 
Wilhelmshafen  and  Kiel,  and  that  carry  guns  and  guns. 
We  have  flown  over  the  Baltic,  over  Svendborg,  and 
back  to  the  Fatherland,  and  we  shall  fly  further  yet, 
and  the  wooden  walls  of  England  will  be  down  below 
in  the  sea." 

"  And  the  sand  dunes  with  the  wind  blowing  over 
them  and  the  sea-birds  calling,  where  the  salt  fresh  air 
is  clean  and  stinging  and  pure,  is  nothing  but  a  pen 
where  chemists  and  soldiers  and  sailors  sit  and  think 
of  killing  other  men,"  said  Marcus.  "  Well,  Sachs, 
ever}'  one  to  his  taste,  I  suppose,  but  I'd  hate  the  sight 
of  your  beautiful  Heligoland." 

"  It  is  so  few  who  may  see  it,"  said  Sachs  reluct- 
antly. "I  wish  I  could  take  you  on  a  trip  we  make 
there  from  Stettin  on  X  15.  Ach!  X  15,  she  is  so 
ruhig,  she  is  so  menschenfreundlich,  so  beautiful,  and 

223 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

up  you  go  —  up,  up,  and  up  ten  thousand  feet."  He 
tapped  Marcus  on  the  arm,  his  face  keenly  excited. 
"  Suppose  I  take  you  as  my  assistant  in  a  little  chem- 
ical experiment,  wasf  " 

"  Quatsch!  to  you  Sachs,"  said  Marcus,  rolling  over 
on  to  his  back.  "  I  can't  stand  heights.  I  once  nearly 
fell  off  the  top  of  a  tower,  and  I  once  nearly  fell  off  a 
high  chair  when  I  was  ten  months  old." 

"  But  think !  we  shall  travel  at  the  rate  of  sixty 
miles  an  hour." 

"  Sachs."  Marcus  sat  up  and  patted  the  greasy 
head.  "  I  have  met  many  liars  in  my  time,  particu- 
larly when  I  was  travelling  for  the  sale  of  an  Encyclo- 
pedia Germanica,  when  I  lied  admiringly  myself,  but 
even  including  myself,  I  am  obliged  to  admit  that  you 
take  the  prize  and  the  gold  medal  and  every  kind  of 
iron  cross  and  order  that  I  know  of  as  the  best  and 
finest  prevaricator  in  Central  Europe." 

Sachs  pulled  down  his  untidy  waistcoat  over  his 
stout  figure. 

**  Janover,  I  shall  not  rest  until  you  say  to  me  as  one 
honest  comrade  to  another,  *  You  have  not  lied,  Kas- 
par  Sachs.  It  is  all  true  and  more  than  what  you  have 
said.' " 

"  Then,  Kaspar  Sachs,"  said  Marcus,  looking  at  the 
turgid  yellow  carpet  at  his  feet,  "  I  don't  see  myself 
getting  into  your  schone  X  15,  not  only  to  be  sea-sick 
in  mid-air,  but  also  to  be  perhaps  caught  as  an  impostor 
and  practised  with  as  a  substitute  for  several  tons  of 
dynamite  thrown  down  on  to  the  roofs  of  Paris.  I 
still  love  my  life,  Kaspar  Sachs,  and  even  though  the 
Record  Office  is  not  amusing,  there  are  places  that  I 
find  gay,  here  in  Berlin,  and  there  are  those  who  would 

224 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

cry  if  I  never  came  back  —  Corot,  for  instance,  and 
Daubigny  and  the  Flemish  Boucher  —  what  would 
they  do  without  Mark  Janover?  I  am  afraid  I  must 
decline." 

"  There  need  be  no  fear,"  said  Sachs.  "  No  one 
would  think  to  question.  You  shall  be  my  cousin,  and 
I  will  explain  all  that  is  necessary.  I  am  not  a  little 
chemist  —  I  am  a  great  chemist,  and  in  my  head  there 
are  other  inventions.  It  is  I  who  invented  the  process 
for  casting  lighted  oil  from  specially  constructed 
pumps  upon  the  enemy's  forces  in  the  coming  war." 

"  W under schone,"  said  Marcus.  "  I'll  think  about 
it."  He  looked  at  the  mild  pale  face  and  the  fat  figure 
of  Sachs.  "  When  do  you  and  the  ever-gracious  X  15 
go  off  to  Heaven  and  Heligoland?  " 

"  In  two  days,"  Sachs  said  eagerly.     "  You  come?  " 

"  To  be  shuttlecocked  into  the  skies?  Well,  if  I  do, 
fat-headed  Kaspar,  it  is  a  real  proof  of  my  very  great 
appreciation  of  your  company.  I'm  damned  if  I'd  do 
it  for  any  one  else ;  but  we're  not  really  to  travel  like 
lightning,  are  we?  I  don't  see  myself  going  if  we 
are." 

"  Put  your  faith  in  me,"  said  Sachs,  his  face  light- 
ing with  almost  childish  joy.  **  Put  your  faith  in  me 
—  and  perhaps  I  may  even  get  you  inside  to  the  eastern 
end  of  the  island,  where  only  the  Luftschiffer  Abteilung 
ever  yet  have  been.  Ach!  I  should  like  you  to  jcf  it, 
then  you  would  cease  to  laugh  and  talk  of  Sachs'  lies." 

Sachs,  after  repeated  and  strengthened  inducements, 
extracted  a  promise  from  Marcus  that  if  he  could  get 
two  days'  leave  he  would  go  with  him.  The  chemist 
said  he  could  provide  him  with  oilskins,  and  all  that 
Marcus  had  to  do  was  to  remain  close  to  Sachs  and 

225 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

make  notes  for  him  while  he  experimented  with  a  new 
invention  for  raining  death  upon  a  hostile  country. 

Sachs  was  an  enthusiast  and  he  was  deeply  in  love 
with  X  15,  and  just  as  there  are  men  who  when  they 
love  a  woman  desire  that  their  comrades  should  see 
and  stand  and  wonder,  so  Sachs  desired  that  Marcus 
should  discard  his  levity  and  bare  his  head  to  the  con- 
quering majesty  of  the  Zeppelin  that  was  more  than 
anything  else  in  life  to  him,  and  Marcus  Janover  was 
such  a  lustig  Brudcr  and  was  so  utterly  and  entirely 
simple  that  it  never  dawned  upon  the  highly-educated 
mind  of  Sachs  that  he  could  be  in  any  way  dangerous. 
He  knew  already  that  Marcus  Janover  remembered 
nothing,  and  that  he  forgot  faces  and  dates  and  the 
,way  to  places,  and  that  he  was  devoid  of  knowledge  of 
chemistry,  even  in  its  mildest  form ;  and  well  it  was  for 
the  peace  of  mind  of  Kaspar  Sachs  that  he  was  not 
aware  that  even  in  his  early  school-days  Marcus  had 
exhibited  a  marked  aptitude  for  what  he  and  his  fel- 
lows called  "  stinks." 

"  I  remember  the  quantities  exactly,"  was  the 
thought  formulated  in  Marcus  Janover's  brain  as  he 
killed  a  fly  on  Sachs'  prematurely  bald  head  with  a 
resounding  smack. 

"If  they'll  accept  an  excuse,"  he  said,  taking  up  his 
hat.  "  I'll  come." 

Sachs  accompanied  him  into  Leipzigstrasse,  and 
walking  up  Friedrichstrasse,  they  dined  together  at 
iKampinsky's,  and  late  in  the  evening  Marcus  returned 
to  his  room  with  heavy  lines  of  fatigue  under  his  eyes. 

It  was  very  late  indeed  when  he  walked  out  again, 
wearied   to   death,    and   met   George    Felsted,    Lord 

226 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Shaw  ford's  secretary,  in  the  Siegersalle,  quiet  and  de- 
serted at  that  hour. 

'*  For  God's  sake,  take  care  of  these  notes,  George," 
he  said  as  they  sat  on  a  bench  together.  "  I've  sweated 
blood  to  get  them  written  out,  and  I'm  going  to  HeHgo- 
land  in  X  15  on  Saturday.  It's  to  be  my  week-end 
trip." 

"  By  Gad,  Marcus,  Lord  Shaw  ford  will  be  pleased." 
George  Felsted  was  a  small  dapper  little  man  with  a 
pleasant  voice,  which  he  modulated  carefully. 

"  Von  der  Schultz  is  also  away  for  the  week-end, 
and  at  present  they  are  all  fighting  like  devils  over  the 
nominal  pretext  for  declaring  war  on  Russia  and 
France.  They  still  hope  England  won't  come  in," 
Janover  went  on. 

"  I  see,"  said  Felsted  slowly. 

"  And,  George,  if  you're  tired  of  life  and  want  to 
shorten  it  by  years,  try  amusing  a  German  chemist." 

"  It's  damned  hard  luck."  Felsted  spoke  with  real 
sorrow  in  his  voice.  "  But  look  at  your  results.  It 
makes  some  difference,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  I  try  to  think  it  does.  But  I'll  have  some  difficulty 
in  getting  a  map  made  over  this  X  15  trip.  However, 
I'll  get  the  numbers  of  the  guards  and  the  numbers  of 
the  sheds  and  the  probable  output  in  Zeppelins  while  I 
crack  hoary  old  jests  and  play  the  fool.  By  the  way, 
I  have  noted  that  my  amiable  friend  and  cousin,  Kas- 
par  Sachs,  has  invented  liquid  gas  pumps  that  set  fire 
to  invading  forces."  He  looked  up  at  the  stars.  "  It's 
to  be  a  pretty  war,  I  promise  you,  George,  and  the 
chemists  are  inventing  as  fast  as  they  can  think  new 
tortures  and  horrors,  and  life  is  to  go  maimed  and 

227 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

terrible  for  hundreds  of  thousands  because  of  the  brain 
of  my  nice  kind  Kaspar.  I've  sat  there  standing  him 
drinks  while  I  long  to  wring  his  damned  neck." 

George  Felsted  got  up, 

*'  I'll  be  here  each  night  as  long  as  it's  possible,"  he 
said,  holding  out  his  hand.  "  Of  course,  once  we  have 
left  and  the  mob  is  wrecking  the  Embassy,  it  will  be 
more  difficult  to  communicate.  I've  got  the  addresses 
of  the  men  we  have,  both  in  Switzerland  and  Holland, 
who  may  be  trusted,  also  in  Belgium,  and  I'll  write 
them  down." 

"  Not  a  line,"  said  Marcus  quickly.  "  I  lock  noth- 
ing. Keys  are  fatal  in  my  profession,  and  if  you  lock 
up  anything  you  ask  for  trouble.  I've  achieved  a  repu- 
tation for  leaving  even'thing  about,  including  money 
and  a  few  pretty  fervid  love-letters  I  wrote  to  myself, 
so  as  to  inspire  confidence.  If  you  leave  love-letters 
and  money  about  on  your  table  in  hired  rooms  no  one 
on  earth  thinks  you  anything  but  an  absolute  idiot." 

He  parted  from  Felsted  in  the  darkness  and  walked 
slowly  back  towards  the  Mittelstrasse. 


228 


CHAPTER  XX 

MARCUS  JANOVER  returned  from  his  trip  in 
X  15  as  enthusiastic  as  Kaspar  Sachs  could 
desire,  and  so  great  was  his  appreciation  of  Zeppelins 
that  Sachs  unfolded  to  his  convert  further  mysteries 
that  were  taking  place  within  the  Government  chemical 
laboratories  at  Spandau.  He  even  explained  to  Mar- 
cus the  weak  points  of  his  darling,  and  bemoaned  the 
fact  that  she  was  vulnerable.  Nothing  stemmed  the 
torrent  of  his  talk,  having  found  the  one  man  in  the 
world  with  whom  he  could  converse,  and  the  repeated 
protests  that  Marcus  indulged  in  when  he  forbade  him 
with  oaths  to  mention  X  15  were  of  no  avail. 

Marcus  preferred  to  dwell  upon  the  strange  destiny 
of  Heligoland  in  the  abstract,  and  the  exact  mind  of 
Kaspar  Sachs  was  irritated  at  his  lack  of  accuracy. 

"  I  have  told  you,  Marcus  Janover,  that  it  is  not 
twenty  battalions  of  Ltiftschiffer  'Abteilimg  that  are  in 
Heligoland,  but  ten;  and  each  has  three  hundred  and 
fifty  mechanics  and  artificers " 

"  What  do  I  care?  "  said  Marcus.  "  It  has  nothing 
to  do  with  me.  What  afi'ects  me  is  the  cruelty  of  tor- 
menting that  little  wild  island,  where  people  ought  to 
be  honeymooning  and  dreaming,  and  making  it  into  a 
hideous  nightmare  of  gas-bags." 

"  Women,  women,"  said  Sachs,  his  pale  eyes  and 
yellow  face  looking  more  than  ever  pallid  under  the 
light  from  the  incandescent  burner  overhead.  "  Can 
you  not  ever  think  of  anything  but  Frauenhemden?  " 

229 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Marcus  looked  at  the  cheap  clock  on  the  mantelpiece. 

"  I  have  an  appointment,"  he  said,  getting  up. 
"  Tonight  I  shall  spend  my  week's  earning  at  the  Cafe 
Bauer.  I  won't  invite  you,  Sachs,  because  my  little 
Ursule  would  be  jealous  of  X  15.  I  think  I  must  tell 
her  that  I  have  been  flying  over  the  Fatherland  and 
looking  down  upon " 

"  Mcin  Gott,  mcin  Gott!"  Sachs  threw  up  his 
hands.  "  You  are  mad,  Janover.  None  must  know 
of  our  little  adventure.  I  took  you  with  me  so  as  you 
should  better  understand  when  I  talk.  To  permit  a 
woman  to  know  anything  is  ridiculous.  I  forbid  you 
to  speak  of  it." 

Marcus  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  All  right,  kaspar.  It  doesn't  matter.  I'll  tell  her 
nothing  that  need  keep  you  awake  at  night.  She  loves 
me,''  he  went  on,  with  a  good  imitation  of  Von  der 
Schultz's  manner,  "  but  then,  so  many  women  do." 

When  Marcus  had  changed  his  clothes  and  put  on  a 
light  overcoat,  he  strolled  slowly  up  to  the  Cafe  Bauer. 
On  his  way  he  passed  Ingolstadt,  who  was  in  a  hurry, 
and  the  Chief  of  the  General  Staff,  accompanied  by  the 
Minister  of  Railways  and  the  Chief  of  the  Admiral's 
Staff. 

"  The  eagles  are  gathered  together,"  he  said  to  him- 
self as  he  observed  the  absorbed  faces  of  the  men 
whom  he  recognized.  When  the  Gross  General-Stab 
was  agitated  and  keeping  late  hours  things  must  be  well 
on  the  way  towards  a  climax;  and  last  of  all  he  saw 
Von  Thulsen  flash  past  in  his  car.  If  Von  Thulsen 
was  in  Berlin  and  out  of  Metz,  it  meant  indeed  that 
the  eagles  were  gathering  from  many  quarters. 

Marcus  looked  up  to  the  skies  above  the  lighted  city, 
230 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  a  strong  feeling  of  wonder  came  upon  him  to  think 
that  the  whole  brain  of  a  people  was  setting  desperately 
and  furiously  towards  war  and  its  awful  reckonings. 
War  and  the  madness  of  war  lighted  the  brains  of  the 
men  he  had  passed,  and  soon  it  would  light  the  brains 
of  the  whole  country.  Sachs  in  his  chemical  labora- 
tory was  already  mad,  and  the  professors  and  pastors 
were  soon  to  join  the  headlong  party  that  shouted 
Deutschland  iiher  Allcs  and  shrieked  for  blood.  After 
a  hundred  years  of  European  peace,  men  were  to  die 
in  millions,  and  the  very  men  who  were  to  die  were 
shouting  already  in  the  big  barrack  squares  because 
they  guessed  that  they  were  soon,  and  very  soon,  to  go 
out  and  kill  other  men  about  whom  they  knew  nothing, 
from  Russia  and  France,  and  also  perhaps  from  Eng- 
land, unless  England  stood  out. 

Marcus  wondered  at  it  all  as  he  went  slowly  along 
the  pavement  under  the  strong  blazing  lights.  Nomi- 
nally men  went  to  war  for  reasons,  good  or  bad,  which 
posterity  alone  could  judge ;  but  the  rank  and  file  cared 
and  knew  nothing  of  those  reasons,  and  all  they  sought 
was  the  frenzy  of  destruction.  The  crashing  of  shat- 
tered lives  and  houses  and  the  uncounted  destruction 
of  beauty  and  hope  and  happiness,  all  this  was  to  be 
done,  and  mild  Kaspar  Sachs,  who  turned  faint  and 
sick  in  X  15  when  Marcus  cut  his  finger,  thought  out 
abominations  beside  which  the  pains  of  the  Holy  Inqui- 
sition were  as  nothing. 

And  overhead  the  stars  shone  quietly  and  still,  and 
the  great  Law  that  has  decreed  that  whoso  takes  the 
sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword  remained  unaltered 
and  unchanged. 

Still  thinking,  Marcus  walked  up  the  steps  and  into 
231 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  big  foyer  of  the  Cafe  Bauer,  which  was  crowded  to 
overflowing.  Through  the  crowd  he  caught  sight  of 
Ursule  in  a  flaming  orange  dress  crowned  with  a  large 
black  hat.  She  was  talking  to  Von  der  Schultz,  but 
her  eyes  were  restless  and  wandered  from  face  to  face. 
Her  spirit  of  gaiety  seemed  dulled  and  her  laugh 
sounded  artificial  and  forced.  The  music  of  the  string 
band  spoke  of  desirable  illusions,  making  them  appear 
lasting  and  full  of  charm,  and  the  tragic  fascination  of 
all  such  concourses  worked  upon  the  sensitive  mind  of 
Marcus  Janover  as  he  shouldered  through  the  press  of 
people  and  joined  Ursule  and  Von  der  Schultz. 

Her  face  changed  and  lighted  the  moment  her  eyes 
met  his.  and  Von  der  Schultz  went  ahead  with  his 
swaggering,  domineering  walk,  drawing  the  attention 
of  the  tables  he  passed  ;  even  in  the  crowded  room  amid 
all  the  noise  of  music  and  voices,  standing  as  a  defi- 
nite personality.  Marcus,  who  was  just  behind  his 
host,  saw  him  suddenly  at  the  end  of  a  long  perspective, 
and  looked  in  his  imagination  upon  a  Von  der  Schultz, 
flushed  with  victory,  pushing  his  way  through  the  palm 
room  at  the  Savoy,  and  the  thought  caught  his  heart  as 
some  thoughts  will  and  the  eyes  of  Marcus  Janover  j 
hardened  into  steel. 

"  You  are  a  little  sad,"  Ursule  murmured  to  Marcus! 
as  Von  der  Schultz  ordered  champagne  with  a  fero-| 
cious  heartiness. 

Marcus  turned  towards  her. 

"  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  go  deep,"  he  said  musingly. 
"  All  the  pretty  things  are  on  the  surface.  Underneath 
lie  the  tragedies.  I  caught  sight  of  one  just  then  and 
dived  into  a  nasty  sticky  liquid.  Laugh,  Ursule,  for 
such  places  as  the  Cafe  Bauer  are  your  heaven  upoaj 

232 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

earth  —  is  it  not  so?  You  are  part  of  this  recurring 
dream  and  you  belong  to  the  midnight,  just  as  there 
are  women  who  belong  to  the  dawn." 

"  One  moment,  Mark,"  said  Von  der  Schultz.  "  I 
must  speak  to  Ingolstadt.'' 

When  Marcus  looked  again  at  Ursule  she  was  dab- 
bing her  eyes  with  a  pocket  handkerchief. 

"  Why  do  you  make  me  feel  unhappy  and  small?  " 
she  said  mutinously.  **  Others  have  cared  very  much 
and  I  —  I  have  taken  and  not  given." 

"Then  you  aren't  even  an  honest  huckster;  poor 
Ursule." 

*'  You  are  cruel,"  she  replied,  a  passionate  note  in 
her  voice.  "  I  wish  I  could  be  cruel  to  you,  Mark 
Janover.  But  I  cannot  be  that.  I  suffer  because  of 
you."  She  touched  his  arm  with  her  hand.  "  I  am 
puzzled.  You  must  k-now  that  the  crash  is  coming  in 
a  few  weeks,  and  why  is  it  that  you  are  here?  " 

Marcus  met  her  glance  unflinchingly. 

"  I  am  heart  and  soul  with  the  Fatherland,"  he  said 
in  his  sensitive,  vibrating  voice.  "  My  future  travels 
the  path  that  leads  to  the  great  Day,  and  so  you  will 
find  me  here  when  the  hour  strikes." 

Ursule's  eyes  never  left  his  face. 

"  You  hide  your  heart  well,"  she  said,  nodding  her 
plumed  hat. 

Marcus  smiled.  "  Perhaps  I  have  no  heart  in  the 
sense  you  understand  it.  Where  have  you  been  all 
these  (lavs  —  at  least  give  me  credit  for  having  missed 
you?" 

"  I  don't  lie  to  you,"  she  said,  looking  down  and 
tapping  her  jewelled  fingers  on  the  table.  "  I  have 
been  in  Alsace.     I  am  Alsacienne,  and  I  wanted  to 

233 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

know  for  certain  how  they  feel  down  there  in  my 
country." 

"Yes?" 

"It  is  not  going  to  be  easy.  Some  look  one  way 
and  some  another,  and  there  are  many  who  only  want 
to  be  safe." 

"  I  could  have  told  you  all  that  without  leaving 
Berlin." 

"  Around  Strassburg  and  Carlsruhe  the  people  are 
under  the  shadow  of  the  fortresses,  and  they  know 
Germany's  might.  But  there  are  many  who,  knowing, 
hate  the  yoke  and  would  gladly  be  free." 

"Ah!"  Marcus  spoke  thoughtfully;  "but  freedom, 
Ursule,  is  not  here  —  it  is  far  from  the  world  you  and 
I  know.  We  shall  find  it,  perhaps,  when  we  leave  here 
and  when  death  rings  the  bell " 


Ursule  shrank  back. 

"  Do  not  talk  of  death.     It  gives  me  bad  dreams." 

"  Surely  not  ?  Just  a  little  bridge  to  cross  and  then 
something  quite  new.  I  don't  like  your  Cafe  Bauer 
world  at  all,  where  it  is  always  midnight  —  and  the 
women  smell  of  scent.  I  want  a  different  place,  Ur- 
sule, I  find  this  Mitternacht  weary  at  times.  Here  is 
iVon  der  Schultz  coming.     Tell  me,  do  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  No,  and  no,  and  no  " —  Ursule  shook  her  head  — 
"  and  I  used  not  to  care.  But  you,  Marcus  Janover, 
you  have  come  and  made  all  so  hard  to  endure.  I 
wish  I  had  never  seen  you,  I  wish  that  I  could  hate 
you." 

Von  der  Schultz  sat  down  and  looked  jovially  at 
Ursule. 

"So!  I  am  back,"  he  said,  drinking  to  her.  "  Yon 
look   handsome   tonight,    my   wilde   Bar.     Ingolstadt 

234 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

admired  you  from  his  table,  though  he  says  your  bones 
are  not  covered  thick  enough  for  his  taste,  but  I  said 
I  was  content,  so  smile  at  your  Mops,  my  Schooshun- 
din,  and  be  gay,  for  '  I  vant  to  be  amused,'  as  the 
English  say." 

Ursule  responded  with  a  laugh, 

"  It  is  tlie  fault  of  Mark  that  I  am  dull.  He  talked 
to  me  of  death,  Hans,  and  he  is  so  serious  tonight." 

Von  der  Schultz  leaned  forward  and,  taking  Marcus 
by  the  shoulder,  talked  earnestly  into  his  ear. 

"  You  must  have  been  wrong  a1)out  Ireland,  Mark. 
Ingolstadt  says  that  they  have  absolute  confirmation  of 
the  date  fixed  for  an  outbreak  of  hostilities." 

"  1  stick  to  what  I  said." 

"  Ingolstadt  has  the  date,  man.  It  coincides  with 
our  own  affair  exactly,  and  the  British  Expeditionary 
Force  will  have  no  officers  for  one  thing,  as  they  will 
all  be  commanding  the  little  Grangers  in  Ireland,  and 
the  transports  will  be  held  up  by  both  parties  —  gros- 
sartig! " 

'*  And  our  own  affair?  " 

"  Still  the  same  question,  by  which  gate  we  enter 
France,  and  still  the  old  women  who  say  that  England 
will  not  fight,  that  she  must  be  pleasant,  and  with 
war  in  the  country  I  don't  think  that  England  will 
have  a  hand  left  to  strike." 

Marcus  looked  around  the  brightly  lighted  room; 
the  band  was  crashing  out  a  popular  retrain,  and 
conversation  was  inaudible  at  the  other  tables. 

"  Don't  accuse  me  of  dishonesty  when  you  find 
that  you  are  wrong."  he  said.  "  Naturally,  Hans, 
I  am  not  infallible,  and  you  have  your  paid  men  who 
prophesy   smooth   things   to   you.     But   I   know   the 

235 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

heart  of  Ireland,  and  I  know  that  though  North  and 
South  are  shaking  their  fists  under  each  other's  noses, 
directly  there  is  a  fight  among  the  big  dogs  of  Europe, 
they'll  be  into  it,  their  teeth  in  the  Dachshund's  legs." 

**  You  and  your  Ireland ! "  Von  der  Schultz 
smacked  his  shoulder.  "  Oh,  Mark,  you  are  incor- 
rigible. England  hates  your  country,  she  despises 
you  utterly." 

"  I  know  she  does,"  Marcus  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. "  But  yet  when  there  is  a  charge  you'll  find  an 
Irish  regiment  chosen  to  lead  it.  We're  worth  a  great 
deal  to  our  respectable  step-sister,  who  has  all  the 
money,  once  it  comes  to  a  fight,  because  we  live  and 
die  fighting,  friend  Hans,  and  that  is  the  weak  point 
in  your  Irish  argument.  You  can't  buy  her.  It's 
been  tried.  They  bought  one  class  in  the  old  days  of 
the  Union,  but  never  the  countr\\  I  know  you  haven't 
spared  money,  but  it's  a  bad  debt,  and  you'll  not  get 
any  return.  We're  not  a  business  people  —  it's  not 
in  us,  and  we're  most  of  us  accustomed  to  owing  long 
bills.  Your  bill  against  Ireland  won't  be  paid  in  this 
century." 

"  You  are  wrong."  Von  der  Schultz  drank  luxuri- 
ously from  his  glass.  "  All  the  same,  I  have  made  a 
strong  point  of  what  you  say.  and  I  advise  that  no 
great  dependence  should  be  laid  upon  Civil  W^ar." 

Marcus  laughed. 

**  I  thank  you  for  that  cheer,"  he  said,  looking  at 
Ursule,  who  sat  with  her  eyes  on  his.  "  There's  no 
use  muttering,  Hans.  Ursule  can  lip  read  if  she's  a 
finished  artist  at  her  game,  and  she  can  tell  exactly 
what  you've  said.  I  had  the  sense  to  put  my  head 
down  and  raise  my  hand." 

236 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"Ursula  won't  talk."  Von  der  Schultz  drew  his 
chin  inwards  benevolently.  "  She  adores  me  and  she 
is  heart  and  soul  with  the  Fatherland." 

iNIarcus  made  a  sudden  movement  of  his  slender 
hands. 

"  Ursule,"  he  asked,  smiling  at  her,  "  where  is  your 
heart?" 

She  turned  her  painted  face  away. 

"  It  is  not  far  off,"  she  said,  flicking  her  lids. 

"  And  where  is  your  treasure?  " 

"Why  do  you  tease  me?"     She  spoke  petulantly. 

"  Only  because  1  want  to  know.  Here  is  Hans 
tired  of  talking  IVeltpolitik  to  me  and  all  the  time  he 
is  looking  at  you.  C'ome  and  sit  here."  He  got  up. 
"  It's  time  that  I  went  to  my  Mittelstrasse,  mcine 
Gnddige.  Hans,  I  shall  soon  see  you  again,  and  you 
will  have  something  fine  to  tell  when  I  ask  you,  Geht's 
losf  " 

Ursule  caught  his  arm.  "  Do  not  go,"  she  said. 
"  I  want  you  to  stay  and  so  does  Hans." 

"  Stay,  Mark,"  Von  der  Schultz  chuckled  cheer- 
fully. "  I  am  not  jealous  if  Ursule  finds  three  com- 
pany." 

Marcus  stood  with  lis  hands  on  the  back  of  a  chair, 

"  Engldnder,"  said  a  woman's  voice  behind  him, 
and  her  voice  was  full  of  hate.  He  turned  slov.-ly, 
and  lifting  a  glass  from  the  table  drank  as  he  bowed 
to  her. 

"  He's  no  Englishman,"  said  Von  der  Schultz  in 
his  loud  voice.  "  He  is  my  friend.  You  mistake, 
Erna." 

"  1  am  honoured."  ]Marcus  held  the  woman  with 
his  mocking  eyes.     "  Are  not  the  English  the  best 

237 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

dressed  men  in  Europe?  I  fear,  Gnadige,  it  is  my 
tailor  who  receives  your  compliment." 

A  burst  of  laughter  greeted  his  reply,  and  Von  der 
Schultz  clapped  his  hands  loudly  together. 

"  Do  not  look  at  her."  Ursule  rose  and  caught  the 
lapel  of  his  coat.  "  She  is  trying  to  make  you  see 
that  she  too  is  here  tonight." 

"  Ursule,"  Von  der  Schultz  spoke  roughly,  "  permit 
Herr  Janover  to  take  his  leave,  and  be  seated." 

Marcus  unclasped  the  small  hands  that  clutched 
him. 

"  She  is  only  protecting  me,  Hans.  '  Erna  '  ap- 
pears to  think  me  an  undesirable  alien."  He  spoke 
with  a  carelessness  that  was  almost  insolence  and 
pushed  Ursule  into  her  chair.  "  Between  all  these 
women  of  yours  your  friends  are  in  danger.  It  arises 
no  doubt  from  the  fact  that  you  know  how  to  manage 
them,  and  I  am  a  child  in  such  matters." 

Von  der  Schultz  patted  Ursule's  hand. 

"  There  is  a  good  mouse,"  he  said  fatuously. 
"  Later  on  I  will  kiss  you,  kleine  Sail."  He  waved  his 
hand  to  Janover,  and  when  Marcus  looked  back  from 
the  door  he  saw  that  Von  der  Schultz  was  holding 
both  her  hands. 

"  A  fool  there  was,  and  he  made  his  prayer,"  quoted 
Marcus  to  himself. 

Ingolstadt  was  also  leaving,  and  stood  pulling  on 
his  coat,  his  gold-laced  cap  set  at  a  rakish  angle  on 
his  head. 

"  Hans  Breitmann  is  a  clever  soldier  and  a  fine 
specimen  of  the  true  Prussian,"  he  said,  fastening  his 
belt,  "  but  where  women  are  concerned  —  mein  Gott, 
Marcus  Janover,  if  you  are  taking  charge  of  the  pet- 

238 


,The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

ticoats  that  he  buys,  and  keeping  them  in  order  for 
him,  you'll  be  a  busy  man.  Further,  I  warn  you, 
Ursule  from  Paris  looks  at  you  too  much.  I  have 
said  this  before.  Geben  Sie  acht,  my  friend  —  only, 
presently,  there  will  be  other  things  than  Locken  and 
Pomade  to  think  about,  and  Hans  is  a  picked  man. 
He  goes  as  Commandant,  and  he  will  certainly  not 
take  Ursule  with  him." 

"  There  would  hardly  be  room  enough  inside  the 
Liege  fortress  for  her  bandboxes  ?  "  Marcus  offered 
Ingolstadt  a  cigarette,  and  met  his  rapid  glance  inno- 
cently, 

"  So  Von  der  Schultz  has  discovered  that  secret?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Marcus.     "  I  may  only  have 

guessed  it.     I  am  a  bad  person  to  tell  things  to,  as 

my  memory  is  not  what  I  could  wish'  it  to  be.  .  .  . 

They  found  that  out  at  the  Embassy." 


239 


CHAPTER  XXI 

IN  response  to  the  invitation  sent  to  him  by  Hardress 
Sheridan,  Eitel  von  Verlhof  replied  with  much 
formality  that  he  expected  to  be  over  in  England 
in  the  month  of  July,  1914,  and  that  nothing  would 
make  him  more  happy  than  to  come  for  a  brief  visit 
to  Ardshane, 

Hardress  assumed  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  done 
something  of  solid  value  for  his  family  and  depend- 
ents, and  took  up  three  young  horses  with  a  view  to 
getting  them  fit  for  sale. 

Ireland  was  buzzing  with  rumours  of  war,  and 
Hardress  foretold  events  in  the  near  future,  beside 
which  the  traditions  of  Vinegar  Hill  paled  into  in- 
significance. The  melancholy  which  often  descends 
upon  the  later  life  of  men  who  live  as  Hardress  had 
lived  was  gathering  around  him,  and  it  seemed  to 
Hesper  that  the  very  wind  that  blew  over  the  hills 
and  forced  entrance  into  the  winding  passages  was 
full  of  foreboding.  Life  had  become  a  series  of 
amendments  and  readjustments  of  the  first  glories 
of  hope,  and  she  saw  herself  altered  and  amended 
with  all  else.  Silence  lay  between  her  and  Marcus 
Janover;  and  the  chilling  thought  of  distance  made 
the  outlook  grey,  as  if  Death  had  intervened  and 
cast  all  the  best  of  life  behind  her. 

The  ring  of  purple  hills  held  all  her  life,  and  all 
her  restless  aspirations  yearning  eternally  outwards 
were  closed  in  upon  by  the  narrow  limitations  of  her 

240 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

days.  Since  Marcus  left  no  one  had  come  from  out- 
side, and  the  great  events  rapidly  preparing  for  the 
stage  hardly  touched  her. 

Night  by  night  she  listened  to  Hardress  talking 
of  the  preparations  for  civil  war  while  he  did  nothing 
to  prepare  his  own  house,  and  always  she  answered 
out  of  her  own  deep  conviction : 

"  It  won't  come,  Dad.  Something  else  will  hap- 
pen." 

Ulster  had  drilled  and  marched  for  more  than  a 
year,  and  in  the  South  drilling  was  in  full  swing  in 
early  summer  towards  August.  Marching  Volunteers 
were  the  Sunday  entertainment,  but  no  spirit  of  ran- 
cour was  yet  abroad. 

Hesper  watched  them  out  of  her  dream  as  she  might 
have  watched  a  fantastic  gathering  of  strolling  play- 
ers, but  to  her  there  was  no  sense  of  nearness  to  the 
vSpringing  up  of  great  events.  Volcanic  forces  were 
at  work  deeper  than  in  the  hearts  that  gathered  to  form 
up  after  Mass  on  Sundays,  in  the  square  below  the 
chestnut  avenue  that  led  to  the  Chapel,  but  so  far 
the  eruption  was  remote.  Stories  of  rifles  smuggled 
into  the  village  and  of  gun-running  along  the  coast 
sounded  in  her  ears  like  fairy  tales. 

Now  Eitel  was  coming  back  out  of  the  busy  world 
of  towns  and  men  beyond  the  purple  hills,  and  she 
wondered  what  he  would  think  of  the  Volunteer  Army 
when  he  saw  it  out  along  the  road. 

Her  heart  stirred  a  little  at  the  thought  of  seeing 
Eitel,  for  Hesper  knew  that  he  loved  her,  and  the 
woman  in  her  made  her  tender  towards  him.  It 
was  something  to  see  him  back  again,  and  to  be  able 
to  speak  of  Marcus  to  the  man  who  was  his  friend. 

241 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

The  days  were  steadily  fine  and  blue,  and  the  coun- 
try looked  gay  with  the  glory  of  full  summer.  It 
was  weather  to  sit  out  under  the  deep  shadows  of 
the  trees,  and  Hesper  felt  more  alive  than  she  had 
since  Marcus  left  her.  She  knew  instinctively  that 
Eitel  was  not  satisfied  in  mind  about  Marcus,  for  his 
eyes  avoided  hers  when  he  spoke  of  him.  He  told 
her  that  he  had  not  seen  him  since  he  was  on  his  way 
to  Ireland,  and  he  told  her  with  some  hesitation  that 
he  did  hear  of  him  from  time  to  time.  Ingolstadt, 
who  knew  Marcus,  had  been  to  Mctz  just  before  Eitel 
came  over  to  buy  horses,  and  Ingolstadt  had  reported 
that  Janover  was  in  Berlin.  Eitel  did  not  feel  obliged 
to  tell  Hesper  what  it  was  that  Ingolstadt  had  said  — 
even  at  the  memory  of  his  friend's  coarse  witticism 
he  flushed  and  felt  guilty. 

"What  is  he  doing.  Fraulein?  Well,  you  see" — 
Eitel  looked  up  at  the  blue  sky  through  the  thick 
green  beech  leaves  overhead  — "  I  have  not  been  in 
Berlin,  and  Marcus  never  writes.  He  has  some  work 
there  that  we  know  very  little  about.  I  think  he  must 
have  told  you  that  he  is  naturalized?  " 

Hesper's  heart  beat  agonizingly  fast,  and  she  shook 
her  head  silently. 

"  Do  not  look  like  that "     Eitel  bent  nearer  to 

her.  "  Remember  he  is  really  almost  as  much  a 
Deiitscher  as  I  am.  I  think  he  must  have  given  the 
subject  careful  thought.  Oh,  Fraulein  Hesper,  do  not 
look  so  sad." 

"  But "  she  faltered.  "  It  seems  a  little  sur- 
prising. Of  course.  I  know  that,  as  you  say,  Marcus 
has  been  a  great  deal  in  your  country." 

242 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  All  over  the  Colonies  there  are  Germans  who  are 
naturalized  English  subjects."  Eitel  spoke  reassur- 
ingly. "  And  if  your  life  is  to  be  in  a  country  it  is 
often  better  to  be  a  naturalized  subject." 

Hesper  smiled  at  his  anxious  face. 

"  Eitel,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  at  times  I  almost  love 
you.  If  you  weren't  quite  you,  and  Marcus  wasn't 
quite  Marcus,  I  believe  I  should  end  by  loving  you  — 
but  then,  dear  friend,  that  is  how  it  is.  I  am  tied 
altogether  to  Mark  and  I  am  quite  human  enough  to 
wish  I  were  not,  on  the  bad  days." 

Eitel  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips. 

"  I  never  urge  you,  Fraulein,  I  too  love  Marcus. 
The  way  is  different  that  one  loves  a  woman,  but, 
as  a  man,  I  do  not  exaggerate  when  I  tell  you  that 
I  would  do  anything  a  man  might  do,  for  Mark.  We 
both  love  you,  mein  Gnddige,  and  I  must  be  content 
with  my  place  in  your  life,  and  if  ever  I  can  help 
you  it  is  your  gift  to  me  to  permit  me  to  help."  His 
kind  eyes  smiled  at  her.  "  I  dream  my  fool's  dreams 
sometimes  in  the  great  fortress  town  where  I  am  in 
garrison,  and  I  think  of  you  always.  Some  dreams 
are  sad  to  wake  from  and  some  are  idle,  but  most  of 
all  I  desire  your  happiness,  and  I  see  a  future  where 
you  have  your  heart's  hope  and  yet  keep  a  little  place 
of  friendship  for  the  German  friend," 

Hesper  let  her  hands  lie  in  his. 

"  Hopeful  or  hopeless,  it's  one  and  the  same  for 
me.     Marcus  went  and  took  my  heart  with  him." 

Eitel  thought  again  of  Ingolstadt  and  what  he  had 
said  of  Ursule,  and  he  would  have  given  worlds  never 
to  have  heard  what  he  had  heard. 

■243 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  I  think,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "  that  when  one 
loves  and  does  not  always  understand,  the  only  way 
is  just  to  wait  for  the  explanation." 

"  We  both  believe  in  him," 

*'  Assuredly,  Fraulein." 

"  And  we  both  love  him,  Eitel." 

"  That  is  also  certain." 

"  And  yet  " —  her  odd  changing  eyes  met  his,  sud- 
denly bright  with  laughter  — "  he  does  give  us  a  bad 
time,  and  I  am  afraid  of  you,  because  you  are  like 
Fate,  your  feet  are  so  big,  Eitel,  and  so  are  your 
hands,  and  I  have  always  been  afraid  that  you  will 
drag  me  into  some  volcano.  Yes,  you.  you  quiet, 
sensible,  admirable  man.  What  is  it,  Eitel?  Why 
do  I  dream  bad  dreams  about  you  ?  " 

"  My  hands  are  large  " —  he  measured  Hesper's 
with  his  own  — "  yet  that  doesn't  make  them  cruel, 
Fraulein,  they  are  very  willing  to  help  you.  What 
is  it  that  you  dream  ?  " 

"  Stupid  things.  One  goes  back  over  the  past,  and 
when  one  comes  to  a  finger-post  one  thinks.  *  Ah,  if 
only  I  had  taken  the  other  road.'  When  I  think  of  the 
last  time  when  Marcus  was  here  and  the  high  w'inds 
were  tearing  through  the  country  and  all  was  cold 
and  grey  and  sunless,  I  sometimes  wonder  if  I  shall 
ever  see  him  again.  Sometimes  I  seem  to  be  living 
in  a  kind  of  trance,  and  all  this  talk  about  war  between 
North  and  South  goes  on,  and  I  am  deaf  to  it.  I 
look  back  at  the  days  when  it  was  easy  to  see  Marcus, 
and  think  of  hours  when  we  might  have  been  together 
and  were  not,  and  days  when  I  have  been  disagreeable 
and  days  when  I  didn't  live  in  the  time  that  was  with 
me  —  all  this  comes  back  to  me  now,  Eitel,  and  the  me 

244 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

that  you  see  and  talk  to  isn't  me,  it's  only  a  kind  of 
mockery  of  the  old  me.  When  there  is  no  future  one 
goes  back  and  back,  and  the  past  is  all  I  have  now." 

Eitel  clasped  her  hands  more  closely. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said  gently,  "if  it  would  be  dis- 
loyal in  me  to  say  that  sometimes  it  seems  almost 
as  though,  if  this  happiness  has  really  flown,  it  would 
be  best  to  try  to  say  that  it  has  gone.  Could  the  joy 
come  back,  Fraulein?  Not  the  same  joy  and  never 
the  old  sweetness  of  life,  but  in  its  stead  another  love 
that  is  very  patient  and  humble  and  demands  very 
little?" 

Tears  stood  in  Hesper's  eyes  as  she  looked  at  him. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  have  asked  myself,  because, 
as  I  say,  Eitel,  I  am  human  and  I  want  to  be  happy 
in  the  ordinary  way,  with  things  that  are  cheerful 
to  do,  and  a  house  that  isn't  a  barrack  and  hasn't  got 
brass  banisters,  and  children  who  could  be  there  to 
live  for,  and  something  actually  in  all  my  days ;  but 
it's  not  to  be.  My  destiny  has  arranged  that  I  am  to 
be  my  own  ghost  and  haunt  myself,  and  that  like  Lot's 
wife  I  am  to  look  back  and  turn  into  salt,  and  that  no 
one  can  reach  me  in  the  miles-away  place  where  I  am 
standing  except  IMarcus,  and  Marcus  may  never  re- 
turn." 

"  He  vv'ill  come  back."  Eitel  dropped  her  hands. 
"  He  too  is  human,  and  his  love  will  bring  him  along 

the  road  he  knows  so  well "     He  looked  down  the 

blazing  herbaceous  border.  "  Some  day  it  will  be 
a  good  world  again." 

At  dinner  in  the  vast  dining-room,  where  the  table 
lay  like  a  small  island  of  light,  Hardress  talked  stead- 

245 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

ily  of  Irish  politics:  of  good  times  that  were  only  a 
memory,  of  bad  times  that  grew  worse,  and  he  re- 
iterated frequently  that  his  life  was  in  danger.  By 
this  time  Eitel  was  accustomed  to  the  statement,  and 
his  mind  wandered  from  Hardress  and  his  endless 
story  of  wrath  and  turned  to  Hesper,  when  a  tearing 
ring  at  the  front  door  bell  resounded  even  to  the  little 
circle  of  light  in  the  panelled  room. 

"  What's  that?  "     Hardress  held  up  his  hand. 

"  I'd  not  be  surprised " 

The  servant  entered,  carrying  a  salver,  and  handed 
a  telegram  to  Eitel  von  Verlhof. 

"  The  Fraulein  will  permit  me  to  read  it?  " 

Hesper  smiled.  "  I'm  full  of  curiosity  over  tele- 
grams, even  other  people's."  She  watched  his  face 
as  he  opened  the  envelope,  and  she  saw  an  unaccount- 
able wave  of  emotion  sweep  it  as  he  read.  She  saw 
and  realized  that  some  sudden  crashing  shock  had 
descended  upon  Eitel,  and  she  met  his  dismayed  eyes 
as  he  pushed  his  chair  back  without  a  word. 

"  Fraulein,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  broke  as  he  spoke, 
"  I  must  leave  tonight." 

"What's  that?  What's  that?"  said  Hardress, 
aware  that  something  very  sudden  had  come  upon  the 
little  party  of  three.     "  No  one  dead,  I  hope?  " 

Eitel  stood  behind  his  chair,  his  hands  resting  on 
the  carved  back,  and  like  a  man  in  a  dream  he  looked 
about  him  with  a  helpless  longing  look. 

"  I  am  recalled  to  my  regiment  at  Metz.  We  are 
under  orders." 

"  W^ar?  "     Hesper's  voice  rang  out  on  the  word. 

"  But  not  yet,  ach  Gott  —  not  yet  war  with  Eng- 
land." 

2.^6 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  War?  "  Hardress  echoed  the  word.  "  But  we're 
ready  for  it,  the  North  is  armed  and  trained " 

"  Dad."  Hesper  came  round  to  him  and  put  her 
arms  round  his  neck.  "  This  is  the  Great  War.  We 
are  not  talking  of  Ireland,  we  are  talking  of  Europe  — 
Russia,  France,  and  us."  With  her  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der she  looked  across  to  Eitel :  "  And  you,  Herr  von 
Vorlhof,  you  go  out  with  your  men " 

He  held  his  hand  out  towards  her. 

"  I  have  no  choice,  and,  Friiulein,  can  you  give  rae 
one  good  wish  to  take  with  me?  " 

"  I  do  wish  you  well." 

"  I  bid  you  good-bye,  sir."  Eitel  bowed  stiffly  to 
Hardress.     "  And  I  thank  you,  Friiulein  Hesper." 

Hardress  got  up  from  his  chair. 

"  War  in  Europe !  "  he  said,  "  and  you  going  to 
fight?  Upon  my  soul.  Von  Verlhof,  it's  the  queerest 
thing  Eve  heard  for  years."  He  looked  half  dazed. 
"  But  it  can't  mean  England  also." 

"  It  will  mean  England."  Hesper's  voice  was 
charged  with  defiant  vitality.  "  Yes,  and  Ireland  as 
well." 

Eitel  turned  at  the  door. 

"  Friiulein,  our  peace  is  not  yet  broken." 

"  It  is  war." 

"  But,  at  the  end,  will  not  the  old  friend  still  re- 
member all  that  was,  and  forget  what  came  between?  " 

Hesper  stood  with  her  head  lifted  and  her  eyes  on 
his. 

"  There  are  some  things,"  she  said  slowly,  "  that 
may  not  ever  be  forgotten." 


247 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  swift  climax  of  war  had  descended  upon  Eu- 
rope, and  between  sunrise  and  night  all  the  old 
careless  happy  days  were  swept  into  the  past.  Strange 
gigantic  shadows  of  coming  events  darkened  the 
whole  world,  and  the  age  of  blood  and  iron  dawned 
dreadfully.  In  Berlin  demented  crowds  sang  and 
cheered,  and  shouted,  "  Down  with  Russia."  "  Down 
with  France,"'  and,  above  all,  "  Down  with  England." 
The  horror  and  unreason  of  numbers  of  innocent  men 
going  forth  to  destroy  other  men  equally  innocent 
did  not  perturb  the  shouting  crowds,  and  all  the 
ghastly  show  of  battle  was  covered  over  with  flowers 
and  bunting.  Every  one  cheered  with  the  crowd,  for 
the  sons  of  the  Fatherland  had  been  trained  for  war, 
and  at  last  the  hour  had  struck. 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  Marcus  Janover 
arranged  to  meet  Lord  Shaw  ford's  secretary.  All  day 
Marcus  was  in  the  office  in  the  Konigergratzerstrasse; 
in  the  tension  of  the  critical  hour  he  felt  that  he  him- 
self might  be  watched  and  suspected,  and  all  day 
long  the  bands  went  by,  and  the  marching  armies 
passed  out  through  the  frenzied  crowds.  Towards 
evening  he  discovered  from  one  of  the  Secret  Serv- 
ice men  that  Felsted  and  a  few  of  the  junior  staff 
were  not  leaving  until  midnight  to  return  to  their 
"  accursed  country." 

"  So  that  the  crowd  do  not  tear  them  to  pieces 
before  they  get  out  of  Berlin,"  he  added  savagely. 

248 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Are  you  recalled  to  your  regiment?  " 

Marcus  struck  the  window-sash  with  a  clenched 
fist,  and  spoke  hotly. 

"  Mein  Gott!  if  only  I  were." 

"  1  have  to  go  to  that  vcrdammt  Turkey,  and  on 
into  Eg\'pt,"  said  the  agent;  "the  English  are  to  be 
kicked  into  the  sea." 

"  You're  certain  that  the  last  train  leaves  at  mid- 
night!^" 

"  Certain.     I  saw  the  official  order." 

"  I  also  have  orders  " —  Marcus  dusted  his  coat 
carefully — "and  I'm,  nominally,  friendly  with  Fel- 
sted." 

"  Papers  again  ?  "  the  young  German  remarked 
comprehensively.  "They've  been  very  careful  to 
let  none  of  our  people  in,  not  even  the  best  accredited. 
It's  amazing  all  they  get  to  know  at  the  British  Em- 
bassy, and  of  late  they  have  had  reliable  informa- 
tion." 

A  message  from  the  inner  room  recalled  the  Secret 
Service  agent  whose  bourne  was  Constantinople,  and 
he  went  away  silently. 

An  hour  before  the  midnight  train  was  due  to  start, 
Marcus  was  at  the  accustomed  place  under  the  trees. 
There  were  neither  lovers  nor  loafers  to  encounter 
in  the  Alloc,  all  Berlin  was  in  the  streets  and  squares, 
and  the  wildest  enthusiasm  raged  and  roared  every- 
where. Bands  of  students,  eager  to  wreck  all  the 
suspected  houses,  and  mad  to  break  the  windows  of 
the  British  Embassy,  paraded  with  banners  flying, 
and  the  crowd  held  up  the  traffic  by  sheer  dense  weight 
of  numbers. 

When  Marcus  had  waited  for  more  than  ten  min- 
249 


I 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

utes  he  began  to  doubt  if  it  could  be  possible  for 
Felsted  to  get  away,  and  the  distant  roar  of  cheering 
made  him  long  to  hurry  onwards  and  join  in  with  the 
mob.  Disintegration  was  in  progress,  and  he  felt  as 
if  he  must  see  what  was  afoot. 

Just  as  he  had  decided  that  the  secretary  could 
not  be  coming  he  heard  quick  footsteps  approaching, 
and  Felsted  hurried  up. 

"  My  God!  Listen  to  the  row,"  he  said.  "  I  don't 
know  yet  how  I  got  here." 

"  They're  all  drunk,"  said  Marcus.  "  Kaspar  Sachs 
was  drunk  as  a  lord  this  morning,  not  with  wine  or 
even  lager,  but  with  war.  He  kissed  me  on  both 
cheeks,  dirty  little  swine,  and  I  beat  him  on  the  shoul- 
ders till  his  spectacles  fell  oiT.  Here  are  a  few  notes 
which  you  will  understand." 

"  It  is  simply  miraculous  what  you  have  done," 
replied  Felsted.  putting  the  paper  away.  "  Your  vigi- 
lance is  eternal,  and  I  believe  you  see  everything." 

"  By  the  way,  the  postscript  at  the  end  refers  to 
a  most  personable  young  spy  from  the  Admiralty,  ju5t 
returned  to  London.     He  got  his  report  through." 

"  ni  remember  him,"  said  Felsted  grimly.  "  He'll 
get  what  he  needs  safely  enough." 

"  Bates  the  Crammer  is  holding  to  all  his  lambs. 
Most  of  them  will  be  of  military  age  in  another  year, 
and  Bates  gets  so  much  a  head  for  his  haul.  He's  full 
of  'Varsity  lads  who  think  him  the  best  of  good  fel- 
lows, and  they'll  have  lots  of  time  to  learn  German, 
kicking  their  heels  in  an  internment  camp  at  Ruhle- 
ben." 

"  Sweep !  "  said  Felsted  through  his  teeth.  "  And 
he's  an  Englishman." 

250 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  He's  only  one  of  many,"  Marcus  dug  his  sticK 
into  the  neat  border  of  the  path.  "  The  Club  of  Inter- 
national Wastrels  to  which  I  have  the  honour  to  be- 

long " 

"  For  God's  sake,  Marcus,  don't  include  yourself." 
"  Don't  worry,  that  will  be  all  right,"  said  Marcus 
with  restrained  fierceness.     "  It's  war,  George,  and  the 
fortunes  of  war  are  finely  varied." 

"  You'll  get  all  you  can  through  to  the  authorities." 
"  Yes,  I've  fixed  that  up  securely.     I  am  to  be  kept 
at  the  Zeughaus,  so  Berlin  is  to  be  my  headquarters 
for  some  time  yet." 

A  moment  later  Felsted's  footsteps  echoed  along  the 
deserted  Alice,  and  Marcus  waited  alone.  A  spasm 
of  sudden  grief  caught  his  heart  as  he  realized  that 
he  was  entirely  alone  in  the  moment  when  the  vital 
onward  striving  forces  were  carrying  a  cheering  world 
with  them  to  great  battlefields,  and  to  the  chances 
of  distinction  and  death  in  company  with  good  com- 
rades. In  the  tree-shadowed  darkness  of  the  Allee, 
Marcus  stood  face  to  face  with  his  own  share,  and 
his  own  part  in  the  infinite  drama.  He,  not  less,  and 
possibly  far  more  than  the  others,  was  dowered  with 
a  longing  for  the  glad  going  out,  and  the  pride  of 
race  and  the  manifold  joys  that  are  with  the  soldier 
as  an  imperious  necessity.  His  chance  of  joining  the 
marching  men  was  irrevocably  lost,  and  impotent  anger 
was  mere  waste  of  time ;  he  stood  among  the  deadliest 
enemies  of  his  own  country  in  secret  isolation,  whilst 
the  passion  of  hatred  against  England  raged  around 
him,  England  the  mother  of  treachery  and  violence, 
who  blocked  the  way  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  dreams  of 
Germany.     This  was  the  supreme  test,  and  would  be 

251 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  supreme  test  for  Hesper  as  for  him.  He  knew 
that  whispers  would  soon  be  carried  across  the  silence, 
and  that  people  would  wonder  where  Marcus  Janover 
was,  and  presently  it  would  be  known  that  Marcus 
Janover  was  in  Berlin.  What  would  Hesper  say  when 
she  heard?  The  name  of  "traitor"  has  an  ugly 
sound,  and  Marcus  knew  that  he  would  not  be  spared 
the  constant  repetition  of  that  word. 

Far  away  the  cheering  broke  out  louder  than  be- 
fore, and  it  was  evident  that  one  of  the  Princes  was 
passing  by  the  Brandenburger  Tor.  A  realization  of 
the  malignancy  of  the  forces  against  him  welled  up 
in  his  mind,  and  he  battled  against  its  blinding  dark- 
ness. Clear  self-possession  was  indispensable  to  him 
at  this  juncture,  and  the  dreamland  where  Hesper 
lived  must  not  be  visited  at  such  a  time.  He  was  now 
one  of  the  great  Teutonic  household ;  the  precise  na- 
ture and  scope  of  his  work  was  clearly  defined.  The 
events  contracting  closely  were  of  the  weft  of  his  own 
loom,  and  the  actors,  drawn  on  towards  the  wide 
battlefields,  the  awful  slaughter-house  of  Europe,  must 
be  his  one  thought  and  his  only  .study.  There  ap- 
peared no  cohesion  about  the  yelling  mob.  mad  with 
its  joyful  frenzy,  and  yet  Marcus  realized  that  behind 
it  all  there  worked  a  steady  mathematical  brain.  The 
doors  of  the  trap  had  shut  during  the  last  few  hours, 
and  all  those  of  his  own  blood,  left  behind,  must  re- 
main caught  and  caged  to  the  last  hour  of  their  melan- 
choly imprisonment. 

All  the  delirious  night  he  followed  with  the  crowd, 
and  flung  himself  into  the  seething  heart  of  its  great 

252 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

mystery,  its  devils'  gaiety,  and  wild  exuberant  tri- 
umph. Madness  was  in  the  air,  and  its  madness  laid 
hold  upon  Marcus ;  latent  ferocity  broke  upwards 
through  the  smooth  surface  at  the  first  gusty  word 
of  universal  war,  and  Berlin  flung  off  all  rags  of  de- 
cency, and  ran  shouting  and  incoherent  in  its  naked 
materialism. 

Towards  dawn  Marcus  drifted  into  the  Kaiser 
Keller,  and  climbed  up  into  one  of  the  windows,  where 
he  was  joined  by  Kaspar  Sachs.  Below  them  the 
crowd  sang  and  shouted  with  untiring  zest,  and  the 
electric  current  of  great  events  in  the  close  future 
could  be  felt  throbbing  through  the  thick  air  of  the 
restaurant. 

"  Ach,  but  I  am  happy."  Sachs  put  his  arm  round 
Janover's  neck,  "  What  a  sight,  Lieber  Hcrr  Gott! 
what  a  sight !  And  the  marching  men !  There  is  no 
music  like  the  sound  of  a  marching  army." 

"  Yet  better  still  the  sound  of  the  guns,"  said  Mar- 
cus. "  Fat  Bertha  and  her  sisters.  This  " —  he  in- 
dicated the  room  — "  this  is  moonshine,  Kaspar. 
War  is  entirely  distant  from  these  women  and  men, 
they  are  stage  players,  and  you  and  I  watch  the 
play.  War  has  not  made  the  gutters  red,  and  left 
dead  men  on  the  steps  and  in  the  alleys  of  Berlin. 
War  has  not  made  Frau  Schmidt  and  her  daughters 
wear  black,  nor  do  any  of  those  people  understand 
why  they  are  yelling.  But  you  and  I,  we  know  that 
the  joy  of  war  is  away  in  the  distance,  in  the  rush  and 
the  encounter  under  an  open  sky.  You  in  your  stink 
shop  and  I  in  my  Bureau  will  not  see  it,  nor  have 
the  great  satisfaction  of  letting  the  soul  out  of  our 

253 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

enemy  at  close  quarters."  He  put  his  fingers  round 
Kaspar's  throat.  "  Mein  Gott,  Kaspar,  I  could  prac- 
tise on  your  fat  neck." 

"  Habe  Geduld! "  gasped  Kaspar.  "You  are  so 
impulsive,  Janover." 

"  I  feel  the  might  of  my  vision,"  said  Marcus. 
*'  I  am  in  a  lover's  mood  of  lavish  exultation  tonight, 
and  the  barbarian  who  lives  close  to  my  best  civiliza- 
tion would  allow  me  to  choke  you,  out  of  sheer 
bloody-mindedness,  friend  Kaspar." 

"  Enough,  enough."  Kaspar  smoothed  his  ruffled 
hair.     "  You  are  a  wild  dog,  Mark." 

"  And  yet  " —  Marcus  looked  down  at  the  throng  — 
"  there  are  plenty  of  my  fellows  among  our  gathering 
tonight.  Nietzsche  would  call  them  *  swine  and  en- 
thusiasts.' Look  at  them  waving  their  handkerchiefs, 
and  all  because  Kurt  Ingolstadt  and  his  friends  have 
come  in,  three  parts  drunk,  to  make  up  the  rest." 

Ingolstadt  glanced  upwards  and,  recognizing  Mar- 
cus, shouted  to  him  to  come  down. 

"  Himmel!  Janover,  come  and  drink  with  the 
Heroes." 

"  Go,  go,"  said  Sachs,  rocking  with  emotion.  "  It 
is  indeed  wonderful.     Down  with  the  English." 

Marcus  slid  off  the  window-ledge  and  crossed  the 
crowded  room  with  difficulty. 

"  Von  der  Schultz  and  his  Reiterei  are  well  on  the 
road,"  said  Ingolstadt,  clasping  his  hand  with  vigor- 
ous friendship.  "  Soon  Flanders  will  blaze  by  night, 
and  I  join  the  Armeekorps  in  Brussels,  in  time  to 
bring  reinforcements  for  the  advance  on  Paris." 

"  I  wish  I  was  going  too."  Marcus  sat  down  among 
the  Heroes  as  he  spoke;  they  were  flushed  and  elated. 

254 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  It's  a  bad  thing  to  be  Cinderella  at  a  ball  of  the 
Kaiser's  making." 

"  But  Von  der  Schultz  can  get  you  out.  Once 
Liege  falls,  he  will  be  able  to  do  anything." 

Marcus  considered  carefully. 

"  I  believe  I  should  be  more  useful  out  of  Berlin," 
he  said  slowly.  "  I  am  full  of  curiosity,  Kurt,  and 
I  want  to  get  into  Paris  with  the  first  line  men. 
Mind,  I'm  not  complaining,  I'm  making  the  best  of 
existing  conditions." 

"  Your  friend  Eitel  von  Verlhof  was  in  Ireland  when 
he  got  his  recall." 

"In  Ireland?"  Janover's  eyes  lifted  in  quick  in- 
terrogation. 

"  He  was  only  buying  horses.  Eitel  is  not  a 
diplomatist,  but  I  heard  he  was  with  your  people. 
In  a  week's  time  Ireland  will  be  at  war.  You  know 
that  the  English  troops  fired  on  the  Dublin  crowd?" 

Marcus  nodded.  "  I  have  heard  it  all,  but  I  warn 
you  not  to  build  on  Irish  talk  nor  on  what  you  read 
in  the  papers." 

"  We  build  on  the  ruins  of  the  British  Empire," 
said  Ingolstadt,  "  and  if  Ireland  is  wise  she  comes  in 
with  us." 

"But  when  was  Ireland  wise?"  asked  Marcus. 
"  Tell  me  any  occasion  that  occurs  to  you,  and  I'll 
admit  I  know  nothing  about  my  country." 

"  Hoch,  Hoch!"  shouted  a  young  lieutenant  on  his 
right.     "  Deutschland  iiber  Alles." 

"  Ingolstadt  for  a  speech."  Janover  rapped  the 
table  with  his  glass.  "  Let  there  be  nothing  missing, 
Kurt.  Give  them  it  hot  and  strong.  Let  every 
damned  thing  go  in.     Blood  and  slaughter  for  the 

255 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

crowd  to  roar  at."  His  eyes  danced  with  excitement. 
"  The  moment  is  with  you,  blaze  out  at  them  for  the 
sake  of  wild  redemption,  and  tell  them  it's  roses  all 
the  way  to  London  for  the  finest  army  in  the  world." 

Janover  was  wearied  to  death  when  he  reached 
the  Mittelstrasse  after  daybreak;  excitement  had 
eaten  Berlin  like  the  locust,  and  a  jaded  humour  was 
abroad.  Even  Kaspar  Sachs  had  lost  a  little  of  his 
elation,  and  brooded  on  the  thought  that  his  nephew 
might  be  already  among  those  killed  in  Belgium. 
He  spoke  of  it  in  the  evening  when  he  joined  Marcus 
after  his  day's  work. 

"  But,  hang  it  all,  Kaspar,  some  one  or  two  will 
have  to  die  in  this  war." 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  better  in  the  abstract,"  said  Sachs, 
lighting  his  meerschaum.  "  I  have  always  felt  a  dis- 
like of  the  prospect  when  it  becomes  personal." 

"  And  yet  think  of  your  own  inventions,"  sug- 
gested Marcus.  *'  Brighten  up,  Kaspar.  Last  night 
you  were  a  blood  drinker  like  the  rest." 

"  My  nephew  is  like  a  son  to  me,"  said  Sachs 
sorrowfully,  "  and  if  the  English  kill  him " 

"  You  can  think  of  some  other  way  of  making 
their  ends  peculiarly  nasty,"  said  Marcus  cheerfully. 
"  Can't  you  do  anything  with  plague  germs?  Come, 
Kaspar,  this  is  unworthy  of  you  and  of  the  Father- 
land." 

Sachs  wrung  his  hand  fervently. 

"  You  are  right,  Janover,  you  have  made  me  brave. 
It  is  the  price  of  conquest." 

"Just  so,"  said  Marcus  drily.  "And  conquest  re- 
quires a  butcher's  bill  that  shakes  one  a  bit  to  con- 

256 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

sider."  He  patted  Sachs  on  the  shoulder  and  his 
eyes  grew  full  of  sleepy  malice.  "  It's  going  to  be 
a  new  earth  after  the  Kaiser  has  done  with  it,  Sachs. 
A  world  full  of  widows  and  orphans,  and  the  lame 
and  the  halt  and  the  blind ;  the  demented,  the  violated, 
and  the  distracted;  but  what  matter?  And  the  lists 
will  come  in  with  the  names  of  our  friends  in  every 
page.  And  little  houses  will  be  just  a  few  broken 
smouldering  beams,  and  gardens  will  be  laid  waste, 
and  cornfields  shell-ploughed  and  bare,  and  the  chil- 
dren—  Kaspar  Sachs,  do  you  hear  them  crying  yet? 
They  will  cry.  But  what  matter?"  His  voice 
sounded  suddenly  defiant.  "  The  weak  things  must 
go,  but  the  sword  will  pierce  other  hearts  than  those 
of  the  enemy.  It  is  well  to  know,  when  the  reckon- 
ing is  to  be  made,  so  that  we  do  not  shrink  from  our 
national  destiny.  What  are  a  few  tears  and  a  few 
corpses?  Out  and  up  with  the  adventurer  in  you, 
Kaspar." 

Kaspar  Sachs  mopped  his  face  with  his  handker- 
chief. "  It  will  not  be  our  homes  or  our  women  and 
children,"  he  said,  recovering  himself.  "  But  do  not 
mention  it,  Janover.  Your  voice  makes  a  cold  sweat 
cover  me." 

"  You  have  a  gentle  soul,"  said  Janover,  with  a 
twist  of  his  mouth.  "  And  gentle  souls  are  always 
sympathetic." 

"  The  Belgian  women  are  she-devils."  Sachs  spoke 
with  solemn  conviction.  "  It  will  be  a  good  deed  to 
exterminate  that  race;  and  as  for  the  English " 

"  Exactly,  I  quite  agree.  There  was  an  English- 
man, I  believe,  called  Darwin,  who  had  a  theory  of 
the  survival  of  the  fittest,  and  the  destruction  of  the 

257 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

less  well-fitted  individuals.  Think  of  a  great  Teu- 
tonic Europe  —  everything  in  it  made  in  Germany  — 
think  of  that,  and  what  is  your  nephew  ?  " 

"  He  is  still  as  a  son,"  Kaspar  replied  unwillingly. 
"  And  though  all  is  as  you  say,  my  good  friend,  I  am 
not  easy  in  my  mind." 

"  You  sicken  me,  Kaspar."  Marcus  got  up  impa- 
tiently. "  You  and  your  whimsies.  This  is  a  time 
for  great  earthquakes  and  wild  commotion.  Are  you 
ready  to  bear  your  burden,  and  watch  through  the 
long  night?  Are  you  steadfast  in  the  face  of  woe, 
for  woes  there  will  be?  If  you  are,  call  yourself  a 
patriot,  but  not  otherwise." 

"  I  am  again  a  man,"  said  Sachs.  "  But,  indeed, 
Mark  Janover,  who  would  ever  have  dreamed  that 
you  could  speak  as  you  have  spoken?  You  are  in- 
deed a  Deutscher,  and  I  thought  you  only  a  fool." 

Marcus  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"  So  I  am  and  so  are  you.  We're  all  of  us  that. 
I've  had  a  fit  of  some  kind,  I  think  —  war  fever 
probably.  I  am  indeed  a  fool,  because  I  see,  some- 
how, even  yet,  a  sane  democracy  that  will  rise  out 

of  the  tears  and  the  agony  and  the  ashes "     He 

took  down  his  hat  from  a  peg  behind  the  door.  "  A 
fool  indeed,  Kaspar,  you  never  spoke  a  truer  word." 


258 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  tempestuous  west  wind  beat  unceasingly 
against  the  walls  of  Ardshane  all  through  the 
long  winter  and  on  into  the  cold  days  of  a  slow,  re- 
luctant spring ;  it  crashed  in  the  towering  fir  trees  with 
the  noise  of  a  heavy  sea,  and  its  wildness  drove  the 
gulls  far  inland,  white  winged  against  the  grey  sky. 

The  brooding  sorrow  of  the  world  was  in  its  wail, 
and  many  listened  to  it  at  night  with  strange  appre- 
hension; for  changes  came  quickly,  and  even  the  tele- 
graph boy  ploughing  along  the  muddy  roads  on  his 
red-wheeled  bicycle  was  no  longer  a  boy,  but  a  visitant 
of  dread  significance. 

Day  after  day  the  epic  story  of  the  months  un- 
folded its  great  record,  and  day  after  day  the  shadows 
deepened  around  hundreds  of  altered  lives. 

Ireland,  ever  under  the  spell  of  tragic  suggestion, 
was  changed  beyond  recognition.  The  hunting  men, 
the  stable  lads,  and  the  boys  from  the  villages  had 
gone;  the  horses  had  gone  with  their  masters,  noth- 
ing was  left  of  the  old  order,  and  everywhere  there 
were  gaps  that  could  never  again  be  filled. 

Life  had  changed  fundamentally;  Destiny,  giving 
adventurous  excitement  to  those  who  went,  and  lift- 
ing their  hearts  with  a  bugle  call  and  the  sound  of 
drums  and  fifes,  dealt  less  generously  with  those  who 
could  not  go,  bidding  them  endure  in  passive  silence, 
or  break  their  hearts  with  decent  pretence  at  resigna- 

259 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

tion,  when  the  news  came  that  there  was  no  more 
need  to  lie  awake  at  night  and  think  and  wonder  and 
play. 

For  the  many,  the  world  was  a  place  of  lonely 
exile,  and  the  raw  material  of  tragedy  was  piled  high 
through  the  winter.  Always  the  stream  of  marching 
men  filed  on  and  on,  going  from  the  known  things  to 
things  unknown  and  beyond  all  dreams.  With  the 
dirge-like  crashing  of  the  wind  there  mingled  the  per- 
sistent sound  of  marching  feet  tramping  the  frozen 
roads  before  the  dawn  was  clear.  No  one  who  has 
memory  to  recall  the  Avinter  of  1914  and  191 5  will 
forget  the  level  steady  tramp  of  troops  and  the  mys- 
terious sense  of  illusion  which  that  sound  carried  with 
it.  Out  of  the  dark  it  came,  distant  at  first,  then  near, 
and  again  dying  into  silence.  Sometimes  the  invisible 
army  whistled  and  laughed,  but  no  sound  could  cover 
the  undernote.  the  regular  rhythmic  beat  that  rang  out, 
"  War,  War.  War." 

Hesper,  thrust  with  all  the  rest  into  the  realization 
that  the  agony  of  a  generation  was  being  forced  into 
a  few  months  of  life,  felt  herself  set  in  the  centre 
of  a  land  of  incredible  things.  She  hoped  against 
hope  that  Marcus  would  write  to  her,  and  she  longed 
sometimes  with  a  blaze  of  her  imperious  temper,  and 
sometimes  with  heart-broken  despair,  for  any  sign  or 
token  coming  to  break  the  stillness  that  surrounded 
her  like  an  endless  sea  of  ice.  Outside  and  within, 
her  world  was  full  of  leagues  of  mist  and  driving 
storm,  and  the  restlessness  of  the  stir  that  called  the 
men  to  play  their  part  in  the  struggle  passed  her  by  as 
she  strained  her  eyes  watching  a  road  that  stretched 
empty  and  bare  to  the  very  ends  of  the  earth. 

260 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

It  was  impossible  for  Hesper  to  sit  still,  listening 
to  the  wind  and  watching  the  dead  leaves  of  last  au- 
tumn whirling  over  the  sodden  tussocky  grass  of  the 
neglected  lawns  beyond  the  windows.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  read  and  stay  her  heart  upon  books,  for  they 
were  now  remote  and  unfriendly,  dead  things  in  the 
new  world,  incapable  of  ministering  consolation. 

The  long  room  was  a  place  where  one  waited  for 
something  to  happen,  and  nothing  happened,  and  the 
meagre  hours  crawled  by,  dragging  the  weary  day  to 
its  close.  Of  all  useless  things,  the  most  useless  was 
to  listen  for  the  postman's  whistle  in  the  dark.  Again 
and  again  Hesper  flung  her  thoughts  into  the  silence 
and  cried  to  Marcus  to  tell  her  where  he  was  and  what 
power  held  him  silent,  knowing  that  his  silence  lay 
like  lead  upon  her  heart.  She  believed  that  he  must 
have  answered  the  universal  call  with  immediate 
response,  and  she  marvelled  that  his  love  for  Ireland 
had  not  drawn  him  back  to  join  his  fortunes  with 
those  of  the  South  Irish  Horse. 

To  think  of  Marcus  as  anything  but  a  fighting  man 
once  the  chance  was  with  him  was  incredible,  and 
she  pictured  his  return,  as  women  will,  painting  it 
in  with  glad  colours.  He  was  only  waiting  until  some 
point  was  gained,  and  then  he  would  come  back  with 
victory  in  the  air  and  all  the  flags  flying.  Against 
these  thoughts  there  were  others  that  she  could  not 
always  drive  away,  and  the  agony  of  fear  that  he 
might  be  dead  flooded  her  heart  and  called  up  vivid 
terrors  for  him. 

So  long  as  he  walked  the  common  earth  he  made 
all  things  good  for  her,  but  if  he  was  lying  in  a  trench 
in  Flanders,  or  out  on  the  marshy  flats,  then  nothing 

261 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

that  remained  for  life  to  offer  could  ever  make  it 
"whole  for  Hesper  Sheridan, 

So  long  as  he  lived  she  believed  faithfully  that 
he  would  hold  her  hands  and  look  into  her  eyes 
again,  but  death  altered  all  these  things  and  set  the 
horizon  very  far,  to  where  the  mirage  of  hope  stood 
nebulously  distant,  promising  intangible  gifts  and 
pointing  away  to  the  dim  Ultima  Thule,  where  life 
ended. 

When  January  came,  Hesper  took  out  the  young 
horses  in  turn  and  hunted  with  the  ever-waning  hand- 
ful of  those  who  still  remained  behind.  But  the  old 
cheerful,  happy  atmosphere  was  lacking,  and  the  hunt- 
ing season  was  a  travesty  of  other  times.  No  one 
talked  of  the  sport  and  the  chances  of  sport,  and  un- 
reality reigned  by  the  covert  side  as  elsewhere,  for  the 
Hunt  mourned  for  its  best,  and  last  year's  records  of 
daring  and  pluck  were  outbidden  and  forgotten  against 
the  fresh  record  flung  behind  in  pnrting  by  those  who 
would  never  ride  over  the  country-  again. 

Whatever  Hesper  felt  and  suffered  inwardly,  out- 
wardly she  carried  herself  gallantly  and  well.  It 
was  no  part  of  her  philosophy  to  bind  her  burdens 
on  the  backs  of  others,  and  she  clung  to  her  sense 
of  humour,  forcing  herself  to  see  that  the  just  pro- 
portion of  all  things  resolves  itself  into  a  necessity 
to  grasp  the  fact  that  life  is  in  no  way  bettered  by 
sitting  down  and  casting  ashes  on  the  head.  Her 
sane,  strong  youthfulness  helped  her,  and  she  grew 
unconsciously  in  the  school  of  pain,  fighting  down 
her  weariness  and  despair.  There  was  only  one  way 
to  think  of  war.  and  that  was  to  look  towards  the 
great  heroic  standard  set  by  quite  ordinary  men,  and 

262 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

in  the  light  that  fell  from  those  deeds  to  learn  to  reflect 
even  a  little  of  its  glory  in  the  everyday  of  her  own 
life.  So  Hesper  lifted  up  her  heart;  for  Sursum  cor  da 
is  the  greatest  commandment  of  all. 

Hardress  Sheridan  viewed  the  altered  conditions 
of  life  with  mingled  puzzle  and  distress  of  mind.  He 
had  desired  peace  for  his  last  years,  and  Providence 
had  acted  with  great  lack  of  consideration  when  it 
hustled  a  world  war  upon  him,  combined  with  a 
steadily  rising  income  tax.  He  went  out  less  and 
less,  and  sat  by  the  fire  in  the  hall  talking  perpetually 
of  the  economic  aspects  of  the  war,  and  correcting 
the  strategy  of  the  Generals  in  command.  The  inci- 
dent at  Sarajevo  filled  him  with  a  sense  of  aggrava- 
tion, and  he  recurred  to  it  perpetually ;  assassination 
made  the  text  of  countless  sermons  which  he  preached 
from  his  chair,  and  he  was  convinced  that  the  entire 
Radical  representation  in  the  Cabinet  had  been  bought 
by  Germany.  Everywhere  he  detected  indications  of 
Teutonic  acquisitiveness,  and  his  belief  in  the  fore- 
sight and  wisdom  of  the  Central  Powers  was  immense. 
He  also  believed,  in  the  light  of  events,  that  Von 
Verlhof  had  probably  bought  most  of  the  village  and 
a  greater  number  of  the  tenants  before  he  returned 
to  his  regiment ;  and  had  marked  sites  for  heavy  guns 
imder  his  host's  unsuspecting  nose.  He  had  proph- 
esied evil  for  years,  and  had  told  every  one  that  the 
country  was  going  to  the  dogs,  and  at  last,  as  he 
began  to  believe  that  his  prognostications  were  true, 
he  was  filled  with  bitter  pessimism  and  heavy  depres- 
sion of  mind.  Against  his  mood  Hesper  could  do 
nothing,  try  as  she  might,  and  Hardress  added  to  the 
weight  of  the  days  by  lamenting  the  son  never  born 

263 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

to  him,  who  might  have  gone  and  done  battle  and 
come  home  covered  with  glory  and  fame. 

He  frequently  asked  where  Marcus  was  and  why 
he  hadn't  come  to  join  the  army.  It  was  as  though 
he  placed  some  faith  in  his  nephew^  and  looked  anx- 
iously for  his  return  so  that  the  house  might  also 
send  its  representative  for  the  honour  of  the  old  hap- 
less traditions  that  hung  about  it  yet. 


One  evening,  when  the  sun  was  setting  over  the 
water-locked  country,  turning  heaven  and  earth  into 
a  great  glory  of  orange  light,  Hesper  came  back  after 
a  day  on  a  troublesome  young  thoroughbred.  She 
had  had  a  stand-up  battle  with  the  mare  and  had 
conquered,  and  her  face  was  flushed  by  the  heady 
wind  and  the  exercise.  She  looked  more  like  her- 
self than  she  had  done  for  some  months,  and  her 
belief  that  things  could  not  always  be  dreadful  rose 
up  and  told  her  to  hope.  Life  must  have  its  glad 
moments  in  any  long-drawn  sorrow,  or  human  nature 
could  not  continue  to  endure  it.  One  of  those  in- 
explicable waves  of  gladness  had  come  to  Hesper, 
and  she  ran  up  the  steps  talking  and  playing  with 
the  dogs,  who  greeted  her  joyously. 

The  hall  was  veny'  dark  in  contrast  to  the  splendour 
outside,  and  the  red  fire  made  a  bay  of  warm  colour 
in  the  twilight  within  doors.  Hardress  was  sitting 
in  his  chair  talking  to  Dr.  Larry,  who  stood  miser- 
ably looking  upwards  at  the  carved  oak  mantelpiece 
with  every  appearance  of  distress  on  his  round,  cheer- 
ful face. 

Plesper  paused  as  she  shut  the  door  that  led  from 
264 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

the  portico  behind  her.  and  wondered  with  a  catch 
at  her  heart  what  fresh  name  was  written  on  the 
Roll  of  Honour. 

Dr.  Larry  knew  everj-thing  that  happened  to  every- 
body in  the  country,  and  she  felt  that  his  anxious  face 
foreboded  fresh  disaster  to  an  Irish  regiment.  He 
did  not  notice  her.  he  was  so  wrapped  about  with  his 
present  trouble  of  mind. 

"  It  was  Jack  who  told,"  he  said  slowly.  "  He  is 
one  of  the  poor  bits  of  broken  jetsam  the  Germans 
have  returned  home.  Not  another  day"s  work  in  him, 
that's  certain.  The  boy  recognized  him,  driving  with 
a  Prussian  General." 

Hesper  crossed  the  hall ;  this  story  appeared  to 
have  new  features  of  interest. 

"  Is  Jack  back  ?  "  she  asked,  and  then  she  turned 
and  met  her  father's  frozen  stare.  Hardress  was 
leaning  forward  and  he  pushed  her  away  as  she  bent 
over  him. 

Dr.  Larry  laid  his  hand  on  Hesper's  shoulder, 
speaking  as  he  did  when  very  much  moved. 

"  Hesper.  my  lad,  I  thought  it  best  that  your 
father  should  hear  from  me  what  will  be  known  every- 
where in  a  short  while." 

She  nodded.  Something  was  coming  and  it  was 
best  to  be  silent. 

"  It  is  Marcus,"  broke  in  her  father,  an  intemper- 
ate rage  sounding  in  his  voice.  "  He  has  joined  with 
those  blasted  swine  of  Germans.  Jack  Beresford  is 
back  and  he  saw  him  in  Berlin,  when  the  prisoners 
were  being  marched  through  the  streets  for  the  mob 
to  jeer  at.  God  in  Heaven !  To  think  that  I  should 
live  to  be  so  disgraced." 

265 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Marcus !  "  she  said  in  a  hushed  voice,  and  then 
she  drew  herself  up  and  stood  with  her  chin  Hfted, 
much  as  Marcus  himself  often  stood.  "  It  is  not 
true." 

"  Ask  him."  Hardress  pointed  to  the  doctor,  who 
looked  at  her  sorrowfully. 

"  Jack  saw  him,"  he  repeated.  "  It  appears  that 
they  halted  the  Red  Cross  motor  where  he  and  an- 
other couple  of  lads  were  lying,  and  the  Prussian 
fellow,  a  General,  Jack  said,  stood  up  in  his  car  with 
his  hand  on  your  cousin's  shoulder." 

"  How  can  he  be  sure?  "  Hesper's  voice  was  cold 
as  ice.  "  He  was  badly  wounded  and  he  may  easily 
have  been  mistaken." 

Dr.  Larry  cleared  his  throat  and  blew  his  nose 
several  times ;  he  was  dreadfully  disturbed  in  mind, 
for  he  loved  Hesper  truly.     > 

"  Jack  says  that  Marcus  recognized  him,  though 
he  hardly  so  much  as  looked  across  at  the  boy.  The 
thought  of  it  all "     He  broke  off  helplessly. 

"  A  traitor,"  said  Hardress,  rising  out  of  his  chair. 
"  Blast  his  soul." 

"  Don't,  father,"  said  Hesper.  "  We  don't  know 
anything  yet;  don't  judge  him."  She  appealed  to  the 
doctor  with  her  eyes. 

"  We've  been  honourable  men  in  all  our  history  " 
—  Hardress  spoke  violently  and  stood  staring  at  a 
portrait  of  the  first  Hardress,  dressed  in  his  King's 
uniform;  his  deeds  had  been  done  in  the  Stuart  wars, 
through  which  he  had  fought  with  great  gallantry 
and  no  success  of  any  temporal  nature  — "  and  today 
one  of  us  has  pulled  down  his  country's  flag."  His 
voice  broke  on  the  words  — "  To  be  a  coward  in  bat- 

266 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

tie  Is  bad,  but  to  sell  your  honour  to  the  enemy  — 
my  God !  the  Judas." 

The  intolerable  fact  swept  over  him  with  its  ugly 
reality,  and  Hardress  made  a  sound  that  w'as  like 
a  long-drawn  sob.  He  stood  as  a  man  stands  who 
sees  his  honour  slain ;  something  that  was  his  pride 
cast  down  and  trodden  by  the  beasts. 

Hesper  put  her  hands  out  to  him,  but  he  pushed 
her  away ;  no  one  could  comfort  him. 

"  Don't  take  it  so  hard,"  said  the  doctor,  pouring 
him  out  a  stiff  drink  from  the  decanter  that  stood 
on  the  table.  "  As  Hesper  says,  we  don't  know  any- 
thing except  that  Jack  saw  him  in  Berlin.  Perhaps 
the  boy  has  convictions " 

"Convictions  be  damned!"  Hardress  spoke  with 
red  fury  in  his  eyes.  "  He  was  in  with  the  National- 
ists, that's  certain,  and  he  brought  his  German  friend 
to  this  very  house.  The  whole  dirty  game  from  first 
to  last  was  in  his  mind.  I'd  shoot  him  as  I  would 
a  rabid  hound  in  the  kennels  or  exterminate  vermin. 
Thank  God  he  doesn't  bear  my  name,  there's  shame 
enough  w^ithout  that." 

"  Dad,  there  must  be  an  explanation." 

"  Oh.  keep  still."  He  turned  roughly  to  her. 
"  Don't  trouble  me  with  your  talk.  There's  nothing 
he  hasn't  sold,  even  to  the  hearthstone  of  the  only 
home  he  knew.  This  is  what  we  have  come  to  in 
the  end,  and  we  were  always  Kings'  men." 

"  Don't  judge  him  rashly,"  said  Dr.  Larry. 
"  There's  many  a  thing  may  come  to  light  that  might 
clear  him  if  we  only  knew  all  the  facts." 

"  I  know  enough,  Larry,  out  of  your  own  mouth. 
Why  did  he  leave  the  Embassy  before  war  broke  out? 

267 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Why  has  he  hidden  hke  a  fox  safe  and  deep  in  his 
earth,  never  writing  a  word,  never  giving  a  hint  ?  Per- 
haps he  had  some  trace  of  shame  left  with  him.  I 
need  no  explanation,  Marcus  himself  is  hanging  evi- 
dence." 

"  Easy,  man,  easy."  Dr.  Larry  moved  to  the  door. 
"  God  help  me  for  the  trouble  I've  brought  you.'' 

Hardress  made  no  answer,  but  sat  down  slowly  in 
his  chair.     He  only  wanted  to  be  left  alone. 

Hesper  followed  Dr.  Larry  out  through  the  portico 
and  down  the  steps.  The  night  was  clear  and  the 
moon  hung  like  a  silver  lantern  in  the  dark  blue  sky. 
Somewhere  down  the  road  a  dog  was  howling,  and 
the  sound  went  up  to  the  pale  stars,  charged  with  the 
panic  of  a  thousand  nameless  fears. 

"  Hesper,  my  lad."  The  doctor  looked  at  her  sad 
white  face  with  innate  respect  for  the  sacredness  of 
suffering. 

"Is  it  true?  "  she  asked. 

A  frenzy  rose  in  him  against  the  cruelty  of  life. 

"  What  I  told  your  father  is  true  —  but  no  isolated 
fact  is  ever  true,  thank  God,  or  we'd  all  of  us  stand 
a  poor  chance  of  mercy.  There  is  an  explanation. 
Marcus  was  always  different  to  others,  and  if  he  had 
convictions  he'd  stand  to  them  whatever  the  world 
howled  at  him ;  and  I  swear  that  Marcus  never  trod 
on  his  self-respect,  even  if  he  chose  a  road  that  led 
straight  away  from  everything  he  cared  most  about." 

Hesper  was  silent.  She  was  not  feeling  grief  or 
shame  or  anger,  but  only  that  she  had  made  a  rude 
entrance  into  the  life  of  facts,  and  that  all  her  dreams 
were  moonshine.      She  was  like  a  leaf  in  the  wind, 

268 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  the  world  of  ever}'day  had  no  part  or  lot  in  this 
new  storm-driven  place  where  she  stood. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  " —  Dr.  Larr}'  turned  his  eyes 
from  her  face  — "  but  I  know  it's  alone  we  must  all 
be  when  it  comes  to  facing  the  big  waves." 

Hesper  stirred  as  though  his  voice  had  awakened 
her  from  a  dream. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I  was  thinking 
of  the  story  of  the  Irish  rebel  who  asked  the  Deputy 
to  hang  him  in  a  withy  and  not  in  a  felon's  halter, 
because  rebels  were  hung  in  withies."  She  put  her 
hand  on  his  arm  and  the  scent  of  the  violets  she  wore 
drifted  towards  him.  "  When  the  people  about  here 
all  know  —  and  talk  —  will  you  try  to  make  them  give 
Marcus  a  withy?  " 

The  wind  stirred  among  the  bare  branches  of  the 
trees,  and  Dr.  Larry  heard  her  light  footstep  go  away 
up  the  drive ;  he  wondered,  as  most  people  have  won- 
dered, at  the  perplexity  of  life.  So  much  of  it  was 
like  a  play,  and  yet  on  the  stage  things  were  regulated 
so  that  in  the  end  tliey  were  exactly  what  tliey  seemed ; 
in  life  you  began  with  a  boy  and  a  girl  in  a  spring 
meadow  and  you  ended  —  he  wiped  his  face  with 
his  handkerchief  —  there  was  no  saying  where  you 
ended. 

But  the  County  thought  otherwise.  The  end  that 
Marcus  might  expect  was  stated  explicitly,  and  though 
Dr.  Larry  was  faithful  to  his  word,  not  one  of  all 
those  who  condemned  him  to  the  felon's  end  found 
him  worthy  to  be  granted  a  withy,  for  the  sake  of  a 
tradition  sacred  to  rebels  who  die  outlawed. 

269 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

HESPER  endured  the  days  and  the  months  until 
at  last  she  reached  a  place  in  her  pilgrimage 
when  sHe  felt  that  she  must  change  the  endless  monot- 
ony or  face  a  condition  of  mental  strain  that  would 
be  entirely  beyond  her  power  to  sustain  indefinitely. 

She  had  given  up  looking  to  outward  help  from 
Fate  or  chance,  and  it  came  as  a  surprise  to  her  when 
Hardress  burst  out  of  his  dull  gloom  and  told  her 
that  he  should  have  to  go  away  from  Ardshane  and 
gravitate  to  Dublin,  where  he  could  seek  some  com- 
panionship in  the  Kildare  Street  Club. 

"  I  can't  go  on  here,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  do  it, 
Hesper.     Couldn't  w^e  close  the  place  for  a  bit?'' 

A  light  came  into  her  eyes,  and  she  looked  out  of 
the  long  windows  of  the  dining-room  and  watched 
the  swaying  daffodil  border  dancing  in  the  pale  sun- 
shine. "  Would  you  mind.  Dad,  if  I  went  to  the  Red 
Cross  Hospital  and  then " 

"  Oh,  my  God,  I  suppose  you'll  be  asking  me  to  let 
you  go  out  to  France,"  said  her  father,  "  nursing." 
He  threw  a  world  of  antagonism  into  the  word.  He 
could  not  bear  to  think  of  a  woman  training  for  any- 
thing. Women  were  meant  to  do  nothing,  or  if  they 
did  do  things,  these  were  things  which  should  be  done 
w  hen  their  mankind  were  absent.  Hesper  might  have 
scrubbed  the  floors  of  Ardshane  provided  that  her  fa- 
ther could  ignore  the  fact,  but  to  train  for  a  definite 
occupation  shocked  all  his  sense  of  fitness,  and  he  ob- 

270 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

jected  immediately  with  vehement  dislike  of  any  such 
notions. 

Hesper  braced  herself  for  the  usual  weary  struggle 
that  must  be  got  through  before  she  gained  her  point. 
The  habit  of  objection  had  grown  upon  Hardress 
steadily,  and  though  he  wished  to  leave  Ardshane  and 
follow  his  own  inclination  towards  a  brighter  and  less 
isolated  existence,  he  fought  steadily  and  doggedly  for 
his  theory  that  women  should  '*  glide  "  through  life. 
It  was  impossible  for  any  woman  to  glide  through  a 
hospital  training  and  it  offended  his  sense  of  decency. 

In  the  end  Hesper  conquered,  partly  because  Hard- 
ress wanted  to  feel  that  it  was  she  who  drove  him  to 
do  exactly  as  he  wished;  and  partly  because  he  always 
did  give  in  when  Hesper  was  determined  to  carry  her 
point. 

So  Ardshane  slept  behind  closed  shutters,  and  the 
banisters  grew  dim  and  marked  with  strange  stains, 
and  the  cobwebs  tliickened  in  the  high  ceilings  and 
draped  themselves  from  the  ornamental  cornices,  and 
the  dim  glasses  had  nothing  to  reflect  but  shadows  of 
furniture  covered  in  sheets.  Ardshane  was  empty  at 
last,  the  first  time  for  uncounted  years,  and  no  one 
visited  it  e.xcept  the  agent  who  went  there  from  time 
to  time.  Yet,  such  is  the  strange  mystery  of  life, 
the  old  house  stood  circled  round  with  many  thoughts. 
You  cannot  meet  those  you  love  in  strange  places 
where  you  have  never  been  together,  when  absence 
intervenes ;  it  is  in  the  old  places  that  the  old  words 
are  repeated  and  the  old  looks  recalled.  All  the  new 
things  may  be  twice  as  fair  and  far  more  splendid, 
but  they  lack  the  little  touch  of  magic  that  turned  the 
garden  and  the  room  where  love  was  into  a  mental 

271 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

trysting-place  that  calls  thought  back  and  back  to  it 
across  the  world  and  across  the  years. 

Ardshane  —  the  very  name  came  to  Hesper  like 
the  low  sound  of  flowing  water,  and  though  she  had 
suffered  a  suffering  untold  in  the  long  months  before 
she  had  shaken  free,  and  come  into  a  new  life  that 
gave  her  definite  work  to  do,  only  Ardshane  could 
fill  in  the  background  that  held  her  memories  of 
happiness  and  joy.  The  two  were  one ;  T^Iarcus  and 
the  old  house.  And  now  both  were  distant,  and 
the  thoughts  that  called  her  back  to  walk  where  they 
had  walked  together  came  with  wistful  persistency 
as  old  dreams  come,  to  be  dreamed  again  and  again 
into  a  hopeless  dawn.  So  even  in  its  sleep  Ardshane 
was  potent,  and  the  child  born  under  its  roof  carried 
with  her  the  eternal  memory  of  every  turn  in  the 
winding  avenue,  every  phase  of  the  changing  garden, 
and  the  picture  of  the  rooms  where  she  had  known 
the  depth  and  the  glory  of  love,  as  every  living  soul 
carries  a  memorj'  that  is  bound  irrevocably  to  one 
place  and  one  house,  always  returning  there ;  for  the 
ghosts  of  the  living  walk  the  paths  they  knew,  and 
we  who  sit  in  their  chairs  and  move  about  in  the 
rooms  do  not  know  these  things,  or  do  not  care,  or 
are  too  busy  getting  back  in  our  own  ghost  fashion 
to  the  place  we  visit  when  the  twilight  comes,  or  when 
we  sit  alone. 

Once  Hardress  was  definitely  removed  from  Ard- 
shane he  entered  into  a  new  life  that  was  far  more 
congenial,  and  the  second  point  that  Hesper  desired 
to  gain  was  accomplished  without  any  great  effort. 
All  her  thoughts  were  centred  on  her  one  longing  to 
go  to  France,  and  to  find  there  what  she  had  not  found 

272 


I 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

in  her  training,  a  way  towards  peace.  From  the  si- 
lence of  the  former  days  she  found  herself  plunged 
headlong  into  action;  the  change  was  a  relief  to  her 
pent-up  energies,  and  as  she  stood  on  the  Folkestone 
boat  and  looked  back  at  the  crowded  pier,  where  the 
heavy  shadow  of  parting  lay  like  an  intangible  mist, 
she  told  herself  that  it  was  well  with  the  woman  whose 
heart  was  already  dead,  and  it  was  well  to  be  of  the 
company  of  those  who  have  nothing  to  lose,  for  they 
are  the  vagrants  of  the  world  and  go  carelessly  out, 
because  it  does  not  much  matter  whether  they  return 
or  not. 


^71> 


CHAPTER  XXV 

APRIL  stirring  among  the  trees  and  the  gardens 
of  Berh'n  brought  back  Nature's  gay  youth  to 
the  world.  The  lindens  fluttered  and  trembled  against 
a  soft  sky.  and  the  birds  sang  shrill  and  sweet ;  every- 
thing was  full  of  restlessness,  for  the  call  of  spring 
is  the  call  of  love,  not  of  peace,  and  there  was  neither 
love  nor  peace  for  the  many,  for  those  who  had  love 
knew  no  peace,  and  those  who  had  peace  bought  it  at 
the  price  of  broken  hearts. 

To  ]\Iarcus  Janover  the  light  and  shadow  of  the 
days  and  the  air}'  beauty  was  little  short  of  intol- 
erable: a  hundred  memories  came  with  the  scent  of 
the  spring  flowers  to  every  living  soul,  and  the  out- 
ward gladness  contrasted  ill  with  the  times.  In  the 
languor  of  the  first  warm  days  he  felt  the  weight  of 
his  task  more  than  before.  At  times  its  value  out- 
weighed everything;  the  results  justified  the  means  in- 
disputably, and  again  at  times  everything  seemed  vain 
and  worse  than  vain,  and  his  faith  in  himself  waned 
and  flagged.  The  long  tension  was  telling  upon  his 
nerves,  and  the  strain  was  making  itself  felt. 

So  far  his  memory  played  no  tricks  with  him,  and 
outwardly  Marcus  Janover  had  not  altered  in  the 
least,  except  for  a  few  lines  round  his  eyes  and  mouth; 
in  any  case  the  weariness  of  the  individual  had  no 
place  in  the  game  he  played.  His  role  demanded  that 
he  should  always  foresee  the  unforeseen  direction,  and 
discover  joints  in  the  harness.     He  reckoned  the  num- 

274 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

bers  of  the  dead  in  battle,  which  never  appeared  in 
any  official  h'st,  and  he  gathered  the  great  mass  of 
information  that  came  naturally  to  his  ears,  and  sifted 
it,  making  his  own  deductions  through  the  vague  im- 
palpable medium  of  his  psychological  sense.  With 
that  he  had  to  lounge  idly  through  his  days,  do  the 
work  that  the  Bureau  demanded  of  him,  and  Hve  a 
gay  careless  existence :  an  existence  as  transparent  as 
glass.  He  attained  his  object  at  a  price  that  only  he 
himself  could  assess,  and  his  power  of  deception  per- 
fected itself:  for  Berlin  believed  that  Marcus  was  a 
light-hearted  devil  without  a  care  or  a  scruple,  yet 
possessing  a  clear  head  and  a  mathematical  gift  for 
exactitude  in  his  department. 

He  strolled  into  a  Bicrhallc  one  sunny  afternoon, 
and  sat  down  at  a  table  near  the  open  window  to 
make  a  few  notes.  Writing  in  his  own  rooms  in  the 
Mittelstrasse  was  a  relaxation  he  never  permitted  him- 
self. It  was  generally  known  that  Marcus  owned 
neither  pens  nor  ink,  and  people  who  have  no  pens 
and  ink  are  innocent  folk,  who  do  not  communicate 
with  the  outside  world.  Felsted  was  expecting  a  let- 
ter telling  him  something  definite  about  the  movements 
of  Kaspar  Sachs  and  X  15,  and  Marcus  chose  the 
sunny  table  in  the  corner  to  write  a  simple  letter  to  his 
friend. 

A  few  superannuated  musicians  played  on  a  dais 
at  the  far  end,  recalled  into  a  recrudescence  of  musi- 
cal activity  by  reason  of  red  war. 

Quite  near  him  two  wounded  officers  sat  drinking, 
their  faces  stamped  with  the  unmistakable  mark  of 
fatigue  and  pain,  and  their  voices  touched  with  the 
weariness  of  a  long  campaign. 

275 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  It  is  a  long  war,  mcin  Hcrr''  said  one  of  them, 
recognizing  Marcus,  "  when  is  it  to  end?  " 

"  Troy  town  fell,"  he  said,  looking  up  from  his 
writing  with  a  smile,  "  but  then  Helen  was  a  very 
definite  object  to  fight  for." 

"  They  say  England  is  full  of  men  who  don't  want 
to  fight.     If  she  makes  them  go.  what  happens?  " 

"  They  used  to  hide  up  chimneys  in  the  days  of 
the  Press  Gang,"  said  Marcus  cheerfully,  "  but  they 
fought  quite  comparatively  decently  once  cleared  of 
soot  and  faced  by  the  enemy.  They  may  do  the 
same  still." 

"  The  swine,"  said  the  lieutenant,  who  sat  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  table.     "  I  can't  sleep  at  night." 

Marcus  returned  to  his  letter,  which  he  finished, 
and  began  to  think  steadily,  reviewing  his  own  situa- 
tion with  attention  and  care,  as  he  did  from  time  to 
time. 

Occasionally  he  was  aware  that  he  was  under  close 
supervision,  and  that  the  Intelligence  Department  had 
moments  when  they  were  curious  about  him. 

Much  information  had  got  through,  too  much  to 
escape  detection,  but  so  far  not  the  smallest  hint  of 
who  it  was  who  was  responsible  had  been  discovered. 
He  felt  safe  where  the  secret  agents  were  concerned, 
and  safe  where  his  own  circle  was  concerned.  There 
was  no  intrinsic  reason  why  he  .should  ever  be  de- 
tected, if  he  played  his  own  part  through.  Only^ 
one  person  that  he  could  think  of  had  disquieting 
suspicions,  and  that  was  Ursule. 

Marcus  thought  of  her  and  frowned  slightly.  She 
had  subtlety  and  imagination,  and  she  could  find  a 

276 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

clue  with  nothing  at  all  to  go  upon.  As  far  as  was 
humanly  possible  he  had  taken  all  measure  against 
her,  including  the  simple  one  of  avoiding  her  alto- 
gether when  Von  der  Schultz  was  away  with  the 
Second  Army.  Ursule  was  a  danger  point,  and  he 
realized  that  he  pitted  himself  against  her,  know- 
ing nothing  of  the  reason  for  her  continual  gropings 
in  obscurity.  She  was  a  paid  spy,  bought  from  the 
French  service,  and  he  had  no  intention  of  allowing 
Ursule  to  nuUify  his  efforts,  or  catch  him  out  at  his 
game.  Yet  he  was  sure  that  she  suspected  him,  and 
he  attributed  her  undeniable  interest  in  him  to  a  se- 
cret watchfulness  that  he  was  aware  of,  and  that  acted 
upon  him  unpleasantly.  Ursule  with  her  suspicions 
aroused  was  formidable,  and  it  became  necessary  to 
be  wary  where  she  was  concerned. 

Almost  as  though  his  thought  had  called  her,  he 
looked  down  the  room  and  saw  the  swing-door  open 
to  let  her  in.  It  came  as  a  shock  to  see  her  so  sud- 
denly, and  he  met  her  long  steadfast  look  as  she 
crossed  the  room,  answering  it  with  a  careless  smile. 
He  knew  she  was  coming  to  his  table,  and  also  that 
she  would  not  do  so  at  once;  she  was  sure  to  ma- 
noeuvre, and  he  watched  the  process  with  half-idle 
interest. 

"  Ach,  mein  Lichen,"  she  said,  pausing  to  lean  over 
the  wounded  officer  who  had  greeted  Marcus,  and 
tossing  a  rose  to  the  sleepless  lieutenant.  "  You  are 
a  brave  man.  All  the  women  will  love  you  more  be- 
cause you  have  only  one  arm." 

"  It  is  easy  to  slip  away  from  such  a  clasp,"  said 
the   lieutenant.     "  I   have   two,    Fraulein,   even   if    I 

277 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

can't  sleep  at  night.  Sleepless  nights  ask  for  com- 
pany, nicht  wahrf  The  clocks  are  not  my  friends. 
Twelve,  one,  two,  and  on  until  dawn." 

Ursule  laughed.  "  Is  it  your  conscience  that  trou- 
bles you,  little  brother?  Go  to  the  Herr  Pastor  and 
confess  your  Belgian  sins,  and  the  clocks  will  not 
make  you  jump  as  if  you  saw  ghosts."  Still  with  a 
laugh  on  her  lips  she  drifted  out  of  his  reach  by  some 
art  purely  her  own,  and  sat  in  the  chair  opposite  Mar- 
cus, where  the  flickering  sunlight  fell  on  her  white 
dress  like  dancing  golden  leaves.  She  was  very  beau- 
tiful in  her  feline  way,  and  the  eyes  of  both  the  men 
she  had  left  followed  her  with  lingering  admiration. 

"  You  write  here,  Kamcrad? "  she  said,  propping 
her  chin  on  her  hands.  "  What  a  drole  place  to  choose. 
But  then  all  you  do  is  so  unexpected." 

"  It  is  a  sonnet,"  said  Marcus.  "  I  have  a  poetic 
mood  upon  me,  and,  as  I  live  with  Kaspar  Sachs,  I 
must  find  a  place  where  there  are  musicians  and  heroes 
and  " —  he  bowed  half  mockingly  to  her  — "  heroines 
to  write  of  love." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said  petulantly. 
"What  are  you,  Mark?" 

"  I  am  a  naturalized  German  who  once  was  Irish. 
And  you,  Ursule?  French,  Czech,  Russian,  Hun- 
garian, Austrian,  Levantine?" 

"  I  am  Ursule,"  she  said,  bending  nearer  to  him, 
"  only  Ursule,  but  I  have  eyes." 

"  I  know  you  have :  the  eyes  of  Hans  Breitmann's 
tutelary  saint.  Don't  look  .so  ve.xed."  Marcus  turned 
away  to  order  her  a  vermouth.  "  Eyes  are  not  al- 
ways to  \yt  trusted.  '  The  eye  sees  what  the  mind 
brings  with  it,'  Gnddige,  and  your  mind  is  what  you 

278 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

should  consider  first,"  he  continued,  turning  back  to 
her. 

Ursula  looked  down  at  her  hands,  which  she  laid 
flat  on  the  table. 

**  And  yet  if  the  mind  is  peculiarly  and  remarkably 
absent  in  some  respects,  it  does  not  always  read  what 
the  other  eyes  have  to  tell,"  she  said  softly. 

"  That  utterance  is  altogether  too  cryptic  for  my 
simple  comprehension.  I  drink  to  you,  Ursule,  '  a  vos 
beaux  yeux,'  as  our  enemies  the  French  have  it." 

"  Mark,"  she  said,  her  face  full  of  animation,  "  will 
you  do  something  to  please  me  ?  " 

"Anything  you  wish.  What  do  you  want?  A 
rose  from  an  ogre's  garden,  a  cup  of  water  from 
Cocytus?  " 

"  Come  to  supper  with  me  in  the  Liitzowplatz  to- 
night." 

Marcus  leaned  back  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Come  now,  Ursule,  that  is  too  easy.  It  can't  be 
done.  You  raised  my  hopes  and  my  love  of  adven- 
ture, only  to  snuff  all  out  with  an  invitation  to  a 
meal." 

"  Yet  I  do  wish  it,"  she  said  persistently.  "  I  want 
you  to  come.     You  would  not  regret  it." 

Marcus  looked  at  her  and  thought  rapidly. 

It  was  intensely  repugnant  to  him  to  accept,  and 
yet  if  Ursule  was  likely  to  be  a  danger,  it  would 
be  as  well  to  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  her  meth- 
ods. Women  were  a  curse,  and  he  hated  the  softening 
of  her  voice  and  the  shadow  in  her  clever  deep-set 
eyes. 

"  I  should  bore  you  to  yawns,"  he  objected.  "  I 
shall  be  as  dull  as  a  lay  brother  or  a  Suffragan  Bishop. 

2/9 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

I  go  to  bed  early,  and  drink  barley  water."  He  shifted 
his  position  slightly.  "  And  besides,  if  I  did  go,  and 
you  sat  and  looked  at  me  like  Circe  in  a  muslin  frock, 
how  do  I  know  that  I  might  not  talk  sonnets,  things 
that  should  only  be  written?  No,  Ursule,  the  candle 
is  too  expensive,  and  I  must  decline." 

"  Come,"  she  said  imperiously.  "  I  cannot  bear  you 
to  refuse." 

He  thought  again  for  a  moment,  and  glanced  to- 
wards the  table  where  the  two  officers  still  sat,  both 
silent,  and  both  evidently  awaiting  the  end  of  his 
conversation,  with  stolid  resolution  not  to  stir  until 
Ursule  passed  down  once  more. 

"  The  man  with  one  arm  and  his  friend  with  two 
would  appreciate  the  gifts  of  the  gods,"  he  said,  ris- 
ing. "  and  I  accept  because  I  am  an  altruist.  Oh, 
Ursule,  you  are  a  violent  woman.  I  almost  think  you 
a  suffragette.  Why  do  you  force  me  to  come  and 
eat?" 

She  smiled,  and  a  light  of  contentment  dawned  in 
her  eyes, 

"  I  do  not  care  for  anything  —  not  anything,  so 
that  you  come." 

Marcus  turned  at  the  door  and  saw  her  go  to  the 
table,  where  the  young  lieutenant  greeted  her  with 
much  gallantry,  and  he  put  on  his  hat  wondering  at 
the  ways  of  women. 

The  street  outside  was  bright  in  the  sunset;  peo- 
ple were  hurrying  as  the  evening  drew  on.  all  busy 
with  their  own  thoughts  and  aspirations,  and  each' 
intent  upon  some  personal  desire,  some  walking  slowly 
to  the  emptiness  that  awaited  them  upon  retum,  their 
footsteps  keeping  time  to  the  "  No  more,  no  more  " 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

of  their  altered  lives.  IMarcus,  too,  walked  slowly, 
wondering  whether  Ursule  was  setting  her  craft 
against  his  own.  A  fierce  stillness  of  heart  came  over 
him  at  the  thought.  If  Ursule  proposed  to  play  a 
game,  the  denouement  of  which  declared  him  as  an 
English  spy  in  Berlin,  she  would  find  that  she  had  chal- 
lenged an  adversary  who  had  no  more  scruple  than 
she  had  herself.  The  stage  was  set  as  she  had  chosen 
in  the  little  pink  satin  bo.K  in  the  Liitzowplatz  for 
which  Von  der  Schultz  paid  an  exorbitant  rent,  but  the 
cards  were  still  to  deal. 

Janover  returned  to  the  Mittelstrasse  and  changed 
with  leisurely  indifference  to  time.  The  rooms 
reeked  of  tobacco,  and  the  familiar  grubby  furniture 
appealed  to  him  suddenly  like  a  homely  constant  face 
which  is  neither  beautiful  nor  clean,  but  which  is 
comforting. 

He  was  almost  ready  to  pull  on  his  overcoat,  when 
Kaspar  Sachs  came  grumbling  through  the  door  and 
sat  down  on  a  low  chair,  puffing  a  cloud  of  smoke 
from  his  meerschaum. 

"Another  night  of  it,  Mark,  heinf"  he  said. 
"  Wine,  brandy,  women.  Ach,  it  is  absurd,  and  I 
go  at  any  hour.  You  might  have  stayed  tonight 
within." 

Marcus  tied  his  tie  carefully. 

"  On  my  word  of  honour  as  a  liar,  Kaspar,  I  would 
far  rather  stop  at  home.  I  go  to  sup  with  a  she- 
devil,  I  strongly  suspect." 

""  Ach,  Gott!  the  way  that  you  pursue  these  women !  " 

"  In  this  case  " —  Marcus  straightened  his  tie  — 
"  there  is  not  even  the  charm  of  pursuit,  Uncle  Kas- 
par; it  is  I  who  am  the  hunted." 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 


'to 


"Then  what  do  you  go  to  do?  It  is  all  great 
folly." 

"  I  may  kiss  her  hand,  and  if  I  must  I  shall  do  it 
gracefully.  That  is  the  secret  of  tactful  address, 
Kaspar.  Always  appear  to  want  more  than  you  ask 
for,  but  never  pennit  yourself  to  accept  it  if  it  is 
offered  to  you.  Say,  if  you  can't  think  of  anything 
better,  *  If  only  I  dared,'  and  then  run  as  fast  as 
you  can,  mcin  Sachs,  and  you  will  be  successful  in  the 
game  of  heart." 

"Humph!"  said  Sachs.  "It  is  all  great  folly. 
But  it  is  part  of  your  indifference.  I  go  to  Belgium 
at  midnight,  and  after  that  with  X  15  to  England, 
and  yet  you  will  not  stay  with  me." 

Marcus  looked  at  his  reflection  in  the  small  glass 
on  the  wall,  and  adjusted  his  tie  again ;  he  found  it 
profoundly  difficult  to  say  anything  just  then. 

"  If  I  do  not  return,"  continued  Sachs  in  the  same 
grumbling  tones,  "  I  wish  you  to  keep  and  wear  this 
ring.  It  was  my  mother's  wedding  ring  " —  emotion 
shook  his  words.  "  It  is  a  strange  world,  Mark,  and 
I  have  not  loved  many,  nor  have  I  hunted  women 
as  you  do,  yet  I  would  wish  to  leave  this  in  your 
keeping,  for  it  will  remind  you  of  me  should  any- 
thing happen.  We  may  not  sit  here  more,  there  are 
spies  everywhere,  and  the  risk  is  great." 

"  Don't  give  it  to  me."  Marcus  walked  away  to 
the  far  side  of  the  room.  "  I  can't  take  it.  I  might 
lose  it  —  give  it  to  a  woman  —  oh  —  anything.  I 
can't  take  it,  I  tell  you,  Sachs."  He  reached  the  door. 
"  For  God's  sake  don't  ask  me  to." 

Sachs'  spectacles  gleamed  through  the  smoky  at- 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

mosphere,  he  looked  sad  and  forlorn;  desperately  pa- 
thetic in  the  eyes  of  Marcus. 

"  Good-bye,  Uncle,"  he  said,  with  an  effort  at 
gaiety.  "  You'll  come  back,  and  we  will  make  a  night 
of  it  when  you  do." 

Saclis  drooped  his  head  forward. 

"  It  is  not  aiif  Wiedersehen,  Mark,  I  am  not  brave, 
I  am  serious.     It  is  good-bye." 

Marcus  went  down  the  stairs  at  a  run  and  stood 
breathing  deeply  on  the  doorstep.  Kaspar  had 
brought  a  sudden  sick  feeling  in  upon  him,  and  he 
thought  of  him  high  in  space  raining  horror  on  a 
sleeping  world  of  innocent  women  and  children,  and 
yet  surrounded  by  his  vision  and  justifying  the  un- 
justifiable, because  the  vision  clearly  commanded  Kas- 
par Sachs  to  take  his  life  in  his  tremblmg  hands  and 
commit  hideous  murder. 

The  whole  riddle  of  the  war  perplexed  and  drove 
him.  It  was  all  a  muddle  of  hopeless  complexity, 
•where  old  guiding  lights  were  no  longer  clear.  His 
heart  sank  as  he  tried  to  grapple  with  the  awful  as- 
cendancy of  the  madness  of  the  world,  and  his  own 
part  in  the  endless  chain  of  causes  hung  with  a  leaden 
weight  around  him. 

He  could  not  rid  himself  of  the  memory  of  Kaspar 
sitting  bowed  in  the  broken-down  chair,  holding  out 
his  mother's  ring  on  his  shaking  hand,  and  it  came 
with  him  into  the  pink  satin  boudoir  that  was  all  a 
gala  of  lights  and  flowers  and  mirrors  and  soft  cush- 
ions; Ursule  standing  in  the  centre  of  her  stage 
dressed  in  filmy  black,  with  a  gold  band  in  her  hair. 

It  was  a  heartless  little  room,  suggesting  heartless 

283 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

passionate  episodes,  that  no  one  troubled  to  recall 
once  they  were  spent. 

Marcus  was  distrait  and  he  hardly  listened  to 
Ursule,  only  talking  at  random  as  he  sat  at  her  table 
under  a  hanging  lamp  like  a  pink  moon,  that  threw 
a  tender  light  over  the  silver  basket  of  white  lilies 
that  stood  in  the  centre.  He  did  not  notice  that 
Ursule  ate  nothing,  and  that  she,  too,  was  talking 
away  from  her  thoughts. 

At  last  Marcus  threw  off  the  painful  dominion  that 
Kaspar  Sachs  exercised  over  his  mind,  and  focussed 
his  mental  eyes  upon  Ursule. 

"  How  is  the  Conqueror?  "  he  said  abruptly. 

"  He  is  safe.  It  is  healthy  ten  miles  behind  the 
line  of  trenches!  "  She  laughed  as  she  rose.  "Come 
into  the  boudoir,  Mark.  I  don't  like  this  room.  Ever 
since  you  sat  down  you  have  had  company  that  I  do 
not  see.'' 

Marcus  followed  her  and  lighted  a  cigarette.  The 
chair  he  chose  was  some  distance  from  any  other,  but 
Ursule  took  a  cushion  and  seated  herself  at  his  feet. 

**  No,  don't  be  restless,"  she  said  as  he  moved.  "  I 
sit  where  I  like.  Now  tell  me  who  was  with  you  just 
now." 

"  Only  a  fat  little  man.  No  rival  to  you  in  out- 
line.    Does  that  satisfy  you?  " 

Ursule  moved  and  sat  looking  up  at  his  face. 

"And  you?"  went  on  Marcus.  "Have  you  a 
memory,  Ursule,  and  if  so,  is  there  nothing  in  this 
rosy  room  of  yours  that  makes  you  think?  We  are 
comrades  in  misfortune  if  that  is  so,  for  I  was 
damnably  obliged  to  recall  my  fat  little  man,  and  you 
also   may   be    recalling   some   one   equally   damnably, 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

only  I  brought  my  companion  with  me,  and  yours 
may  Hve  here." 

"  I  never  think  of "     She  shrugged  her  white 

shoulders.  "  As  well  think  of  the  war.  It  is  to  climb 
a  perpetual  mountain  of  misery,  I  sacre  it  every  time 
I  am  obliged  to  remember  it."  She  put  her  arms  on 
his  knees.     "  Mark,  did  you  ever  love  a  woman?  " 

"  My  friend  Kaspar  says  I  am  always  in  love,  and 
I  told  you  I  wrote  sonnets.     That  is  proof  sufficient." 

"  Suppose  any  one  you  loved  to  be  in  danger,  what 
would  you  do  ?  " 

"  Danger  is  such  a  vague  term.  If  it  was  danger 
of  measles  one  could  only  go  and  find  a  doctor?  " 

"  But  if  it  was  danger  that  you  might  avert?  " 

Marcus  looked  away  from  Ursule  across  a  distance 
that  he  could  not  measure  by  any  known  method,  it 
represented  the  ends  of  the  earth,  it  was  so  far  away. 
Only  a  long  room  in  the  twilight  and  Hesper  sitting 
by  a  piano  singing. 

"  Ah,  that  is  known  among  men  as  the  gift  of 
God,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Not  given  to  the 
likes  of  me." 

Ursule  watched  him  with  a  fixed  look,  and  then 
she  leaned  back  again  in  her  old  position. 

"  I  have  a  great  love,"  he  said,  taking  the  hand  she 
placed  in  his  between  his  own.  "  Oddly  enough,  it  is 
for  a  man,  a  very  brave  soldier,  Eitel  von  Verlhof." 

She  touched  his  hands  with  her  face. 

"  Tell  me  about  him.  Why  do  you  love  him» 
Mark  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  Marcus  thought  for  a  moment.  "  Well, 
he  was  at  my  school  at  Hildesheim,  and  he  gave 
me  his  pens  and  his  pencils,  and  —  it's  hard  to  ex- 

285 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

plain,  except  that  there  is  something  unspeakably 
blessed  about  Eitel.  He  is  like  sleep  or  peace  or 
something  one  turns  to  when  one  is  very  weary." 

"  Then  he  is  like  Death,"     Ursule's  voice  was  low. 

"  Perhaps,  but  a  happy  one.  I  go  back  to  the  by- 
gones when  I  think  or  speak  of  him.  Ursule,  you  do 
me  no  kindness  to  draw  these  things  out  of  the  locked 
box." 

Ursule  moved  violently  from  where  she  sat  and 
knelt  before  him,  her  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

"  Tell  me,  Mark,  only  tell  me,"  she  said  vehemently. 
*'  You  can  trust  me.  It  is  not  safe  to  be  so  alone. 
Suppose  anything  went  wrong,  in  all  Berlin  there  is 
not  one  soul  who  could  help  you,  not  one  unless  you 
let  me  in,  and  I  know  all  the  ways.  I  could  play  any 
game  you  wanted,  and  remember  that  Von  der  Schultz 
is  here  often.  There  is  very  little  I  could  not  learn 
from  him." 

Marcus  raised  her  to  her  feet  and  stood  up. 

"  Ursule,"  he  said  quietly,  "  do  you  know  how  inde- 
scribably damnable  your  suggestion  is?  Just  think 
what  it  sounds  like,  for  it  is  not  pretty." 

She  stood  with  her  arms  out  and  her  eyes  appealing 
desperately. 

"  You  are  thinking  of  Hans?  What  does  he  mat- 
ter? Can  you  not  understand  that  I  love  you,  and 
have  forgotten  everything  else?  I  love  you,  Mark, 
and  love  is  life  and  death  and  all  things  to  me."  She 
looked  superb  as  she  faced  him.  "  You  are  with  the 
English,  then  I  also  am  with  the  English,  and  I  will  be 
of  more  use  to  you  and  your  country  than  you  could 
ever  dream  of.     I  would  sell  not  only  Hans  but  my 

286 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

own  soul  if  you  raised  your  finger.     Am  I  not  more 
real  than  your  dream  woman  ?  " 

Marcus  looked  at  her  steadily. 

She  dung  to  him  passionately. 

"  Mark,  I  could  make  you  forget." 

"  No  one  could  do  that  for  me.  Look  at  me,  Ur- 
sule.  I  have  lost  my  name,  honour,  freedom,  and 
happiness.  I  have  nothing  left  to  me  but  one  thing, 
and  that  is  my  belief  that  what  I  do  is  done  for  an 
end  that  makes  even  my  part  in  the  tragedy  worth  the 
price." 

She  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  tears  filled 
her  eyes. 

"  I  had  nothing  to  lose,  Mark.  I  was  thrown  from 
one  to  the  other ;  honour  means  so  little  when  one  has 
first  to  live  —  and  I  like  fine  things.  Once  I  got  the 
secret  out  of  Hyppolite  and  came  into  touch  with  the 
Bureau,  life  was  less  uncertain,  for  they  paid  me  well. 
But  you,  oh,  Mark,  I  guessed  it  long  ago." 

He  took  her  hands  from  his  shoulders  and  closed  his 
own  over  them. 

"  Your  hands  are  small,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  but  they 
hold  my  safety.  I  don't  value  it  as  an  abstract  condi- 
tion, but  there  must  be  no  false  pretences,  no  error  of 
thought  between  us.  I  do  not  love  you,  and  I  have 
nothing  to  give." 

"  Nothing  to  give !  "  she  echoed. 

There  was  silence  between  them,  and  she  sat  down 
on  a  gilded  sofa  near  the  stove. 

"  No  place  for  me,"  she  went  on  in  a  suppressed 
voice.     "  Nothing." 

"  God  knows  I  have  not." 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

She  laid  her  hands  palm  upwards  on  her  knees,  and 
sat  looking  down  at  them. 

"  So  I  hold  you  here,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Marcus.  "  You  do,  Gnddige,  and 
you  can  choose  just  what  you  like  to  do  with  me." 

"  I  could  sell  you." 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed,  "  you  could.  I  wonder  if  I 
should  come  to  thank  you  if  you  did.  I  almost  think 
so.  The  hope  of  a  completed  undertaking  is  only  per- 
sonal vanity;  England  will  conquer  without  my  re- 
ports." 

"  Think  of  it  " —  she  caught  her  breath  quickly  and 
folded  her  hands  into  a  cup — "your  life  inside  that 
little  space." 

"My  life!"  Janover  laughed  with  bitter  self- 
contempt.  "  A  splendid  afifair;  the  stainless  record  of 
a  gallant  gentleman." 

In  a  moment  she  changed,  like  flame  breathing  out 
through  a  close  covering. 

"  Mark,  do  not  speak  like  that.  Your  life  is  safe  if 
any  act  of  mine  can  keep  it  so.  I  know  the  dark  way 
that  you  have  come,  and  do  you  think  that  I  would 
sell  your  work  and  you  because  you  do  not  love  me, 
"vvhen  the  whole  world  is  too  small  for  my  love  of 
you?" 

"  I  understand  you  perfectly,"  he  said,  and  leaned 
his  elbows  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands.  "  One  always  hopes  for  things,"  he  went  on 
in  a  weary  voice,  "  and  I  only  hope  for  one  thing :  that 
I  may  yet  die  on  the  other  side  of  the  trench  line.  Not 
heroically,  you  see  I  could  hardly  indulge  in  dreams  of 
'  bhit'gen  Lorheern,'  but  just  with  common  decency. 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

That  is  the  reason  why  I  must  be  glad  that  you  have 
chosen  as  you  have." 

He  turned  towards  her  and  held  her  hands  for  a 
moment. 

"  Thank  you,  Ursule,"  he  said  quietly.  *'  Not  only 
for  leaving  me  a  chance,  but  also  for  the  rest." 


289 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN  May,  General  von  der  Schultz  returned  from 
Flanders,  and  when  the  first  flush  of  his  enthusi- 
astic reception  was  over  he  sought  out  Marcus  Jan- 
over  at  his  table  in  the  dull  office,  where  he  was  en- 
gaged in  tracing  a  code  used  by  prisoners  in  detention 
camps. 

Battering  down  all  excuses,  he  took  him  back  with 
him  to  his  house,  though  Marcus  was  not  anxious  for 
his  boisterous  hospitality,  but  Von  der  Schultz  was  of 
value  to  him,  both  as  a  man  who  knew  much  that  he 
wished  to  learn,  and  also  as  a  means  of  escape  from  the 
grip  of  Berlin. 

Every  attribute  of  this  successful  soldier  was  accen- 
tuated and  deepened  by  war;  his  face  had  become  more 
brutal,  and  a  look  in  his  eyes  suggested  the  shambles. 
His  old  habit  of  vaunting  his  conquests  was  exagger- 
ated with  all  else.  There  was  something  unspeakably 
soiled  and  dirty  in  the  mental  condition  of  Von  der 
Schultz. 

Marcus  sat  late  with  him  in  the  room  on  the  garden 
side  of  the  house,  contrasting  the  peace  outside  and 
around  with  the  hell  of  realism  that  the  Hans  Breit- 
mann  of  other  days  now  let  loose  in  his  lightest  narra- 
tive. There  was  no  escape  from  the  perpetual  descrip- 
tion of  forced  conquest,  and  Marcus  listened  with  a 
grim  and  studied  calm.  Von  der  Schultz,  like  all  vain 
men,  was  most  vulnerable  through  his  vanity,  and  his 
inflammatory    humour    blazed    under    the    stress    of 

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The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

bloody  war  into  a  prairie  fire,  blown  hither  and  thither 
by  the  vagrant  winds  of  passing  fancy. 

Against  the  background  of  darkness,  noise,  and 
death,  he  stood  out,  copiously  self-indulgent  and 
drenched  to  the  soul  with  the  murder-pitch  of  vice. 

"  For  God's  sake,  let  the  darkness  cover  it,"  said 
Marcus.  "  It  is  not  ambrosial  talk,  Hans.  Even  if 
men  are  mad  when  they  bum  and  loot,  is  there  no 
decent  form  of  madness  possible?  " 

"  Wait  till  you  get  there,  mein  Lieher,"  Von  der 
Schultz  laughed.  "  Wait  until  you  see  Tophet,  and 
are  warmed  out  of  your  prudery  by  the  blaze.  Gott 
in  Himmel,  it  is  great!  Wait  until  you  stand  among 
the  corpses  and  watch  the  fever  frenzy  catch  light. 
The  French  shouting,  '  Vive  la  Patric!  Allans  vain- 
cre! ' —  and  then  the  Prussians  driving*  them  back 
under  the  long  range  concentration  lights.  You  will 
laugh  also  when  you  have  been  through  these  experi- 
ences." 

"Laugh?"  Marcus  knocked  off  the  ash  of  his 
cigarette.  "  I  can  laugh  at  anything  God  ever  created, 
except  at  the  thought  of  violated  women  and  wretched, 
homeless  children.  You  tell  damnable  stories,  Hans; 
let  the  darkness  cover  it,  for  God's  sake." 

Von  der  Schultz  leaned  his  arms  on  the  table  and 
pushed  out  his  full  under  lip  scornfully. 

"  There  is  much  of  the  soft-hearted  Britisher  in  you, 
Mark.  When  you  play  at  War,  all  alike  have  to  pay 
the  butcher's  bill.  It  is  necessary  to  be  merciless,  any- 
thing that  means  a  step  forward  is  necessary.  Our 
enemies  must  fear  us."     He  struck  the  table. 

**  Two  hundred  civilians  shot  in  a  churchyard  1 
London  is  hysterical  at  the  idea.     The  thing  itself  was 

291 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

only  a  game  that  was  played  in  hot  blood,  and  our 
soldiers  laughed  as  the  prisoners  sank  down.  Not  one 
found  mercy.  The  sons  of  the  Fatherland  are  indeed 
great.  A  male  nation,  Marcus,  not  a  whining  woman 
country  like  France  or  England.  They  will  suffer  the 
fate  of  women  taken  in  war."  He  lighted  a  cigar  and 
puffed  out  a  volume  of  thick  blue  smoke.  "  Ach,  mein 
Mark,  you  shall  slough  your  Jiingfrau  fancies.  I  am 
a  true  Deutscher,  a  man  of  honour.  I  represent  an 
Army  Corps,  and  my  dogs  can  bite."  Von  der  Schultz 
brushed  up  his  stiff  moustache  with  a  flat  palm. 
"Ask  my  soldiers,  ask  my  Staff,  they  can  tell  you; 
and  if  I  relax  when  the  ground  is  gained,  it  is  pleasant 
as  a  theatre  show.  If  death  gets  a  few  priests  and 
women,  what  does  that  matter?  And  I  do  not  kill 
women,  Mark,  I  spare  them,  for  women  are  delightful 
as  an  interlude." 

Marcus  moved  impatiently.  "  I  wish  to  God  you'd 
get  me  up  soon,  and  let  me  have  my  day  with  your 
rabid  dogs." 

"  You  owe  the  Britishers  a  shot."  Von  der  Schultz 
drank  deeply  from  the  glass  at  his  elbow.  "  We  shall 
storm  through  France,  and  then,  Kamcrad,  we  shall 
settle  an  old  score  with  England.  It  is  a  bloody  peace 
that  England  will  have  to  sign." 

"  Peace  ?  "  Marcus  looked  away  into  the  dreaming 
garden.  "  Shall  you  and  I  see  it?  I  do  not  think  so. 
More  likely  we  shall  be  left  somewhere  on  the  Western 
road  with  the  rest  of  the  Patriots." 

Von  der  Schultz  nodded  comprehensively. 

"  Who  can  tell,  hcinf  Such  thoughts  may  come 
here  in  Berlin,  but  out  there  " —  he  waved  his  hand 
towards  a  vague  direction  westward  — "  one  does  not 

292 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

think,  one  lives.  No,  one  does  not  think,  and  we  stave 
in  the  wine  butts  and  give  the  cellars  to  the  troops  to 
drive  out  such  thoughts."  He  rubbed  his  hands  to- 
gether and  laughed  loud.  "  Gott!  Gott!  the  fun 
begins.  Mirrors  and  beds  and  precious  furniture 
thrown  through  the  windows,  and  the  bodies  of  men 
and  dogs,  and  the  soldiers  shout  and  sing  and  run  the 
fugitives  to  death  in  the  alleys,  and  search  for  the 
women  —  there  is  not  time  to  think." 

Marcus  looked  away  from  the  moonlit  garden  and 
turned  his  eyes  toward  Von  der  Schultz,  He  was  hid- 
eous to  hear,  hideous  to  think  of,  as  he  sat  there  well 
content  and  moderately  drunk. 

He  had  battened  upon  agony  and  sights  of  anguish, 
and  grown  gross  upon  the  curses  of  women;  there 
seemed  no  end  to  him  and  the  system  he  represented. 
The  exultation  of  the  true  barbarian  rioted  in  his  flesh, 
and  he  caught  greedily  at  a  petticoat  or  a  champagne 
bottle,  and  called  it  kolossal  to  trample  and  destroy. 
And  yet  Janover  realized  that  Von  der  Schultz  was 
as  he  said,  the  presentment  of  an  Army  Corps.  He 
could  keep  his  firm  grasp  of  main  facts  and  think  in 
battalions,  he  could  gaze  unmoved  on  any  sight  that 
the  whole  red  revel  of  war  might  unroll  before  his 
eyes,  and  he  never  sickened  or  shuddered  or  allowed 
his  decision  to  be  weakened  by  the  fate  of  sections. 
He  was  an  organizing  force  who  directed  troops  to 
victory,  and  knew  when  to  open  and  when  to  close  his 
heavy  fist  in  matters  of  discipline.  Janover  looked  at 
him  again  and  thought  of  his  talk  and  the  nightmare 
of  corpses  and  kisses  that  had  mingled  with  the  story 
of  human  brutality  and  human  woe. 

"  War  makes  us  all  philosophers,"   said  Von  der 

293 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Schultz,  loosening  his  collar.     "  Philosophers  have  no 
bad  dreams.     They  are  the  strong  men  of  the  age." 

Alarcus  threw  away  his  finished  cigarette  and 
lighted  another.  "  Perhaps  I  am  one,"  he  suggested. 
"  Not  of  your  breed  exactly,  but  according  to  my  own 
faith.  Philosophy  is  merely  the  power  to  retain  a  due 
sense  of  proportion." 

"  But  I  have  my  faults,"  Von  der  Schultz  admitted. 
"If  man  or  woman  betrays  me  in  the  smallest  instance, 
I  strike  hard." 

Marcus  followed  the  soaring  smoke  of  his  cigarette 
with  interested  fascination. 

"  Part  of  your  psychology,"  he  said.  "  You  do  not 
entirely  resemble  a  machine,  Hans." 

Von  der  Schultz  got  up  from  his  chair  and  went  to 
the  window;  only  a  practised  eye  could  have  noticed 
that  he  walked  a  little  unsteadily. 

"  What  a  night!     I  miss  the  noise  of  the  musketry, 
and  I  must  do  something  to  pass  the  time.     Ursule," 
he  said.       "  Hxmmcl,  I  had  almost  forgotten  her.     I        j 
will  go  to  the  Liitzowplatz.     The  key  is  somewhere  in 
my  room." 

"  Ursule."  Marcus  got  up  and  yawned.  "  Isn't  it 
rather  late?  She  won't  be  expecting  you  and  will  be 
asleep  with  her  hair  in  curling  pins.  It  wouldn't  be 
fair,  I'm  damned  if  it  would." 

"  She  will  be  overjoyed,"  said  Von  der  Schultz 
from  the  corner  by  his  writing-table.  "  Here,  I  have 
found  the  key." 

"  I  am  going  to  bed." 

''  Was?     Mark,  you  grow  old  and  dull." 

"  And  I  shall  dream  of  your  guns,  Hans ;  you  have 
deafened  me  with  your  talk." 

294 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Well." —  Von  der  Schultz  fastened  his  belt  and 
put  on  his  cap  — "  I  will  give  you  a  picture  to  look  at." 
He  took  a  flat  packet  from  his  inside  pocket.  *'  This 
is  the  Zukunft  map  and  shows  exactly  where  our  at- 
tack will  be  when  I  return.  The  dispositions  are  satis- 
factory and  the  redistribution  of  troops  will  be  com- 
pleted." He  spread  the  map  over  the  table.  "  It  is 
interesting  if  you  can  follow  it." 

Marcus  bent  over  it,  leaning  on  his  hands,  the  veins 
in  his  forehead  standing  out  and  his  mouth  set.  The 
map  showed  the  scarred  district  between  Loos  and 
Lille  in  close  detail,  the  salient  points,  the  redoubts, 
and  the  massed  numbers  of  Prussian,  Bavarian,  and 
Saxon  troops  who  held  the  trench  line. 

"  It  is  to  be  an  advance,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 
sounded  strange  in  his  own  ears.  "  Let  me  keep  this 
to  dream  on,  Hans.  It  represents  the  heading  of  a 
new  chapter  of  chances." 

"  A  new  chapter  of  retreat  for  the  British."  Von 
der  Schultz  slapped  his  shoulder. 

Janover  fingered  the  map  with  an  odd  restless  move- 
ment. 

"  By  George,  it  is  a  strange  piece  of  symbolism.  A 
little  paint  and  some  red  ink,  and  it  means  '  Kriegs 
Mobil/  Guns,  ammunition,  field  telegraphs,  and 
thousands  of  men.  And  here,"  he  put  his  finger  on 
the  name  of  a  village,  "  this  is  a  heap  of  ruins,  smashed 
in  the  last  bombardment.  It  looks  infernally  neat  and 
tidy  when  it  all  comes  out  of  your  pocket,  a  nice  bit  of 
glazed  linen " 

"  For  which  a  British  General  would  sell  his  soul 
and  his  wife,"  added  Von  der  Schultz. 

Marcus  stifled  another  yawn. 
295 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  I  like  the  French  names,  they  are  so  incongruous, 
and  contrast  is  the  soul  of  artistic  effect.  You  bayo- 
net a  man  at  Notre  Dame  de  Consolation,  and  you 
blow  up  a  mine  and  send  bits  of  the  enemy  into  the 
sky  at  Les  Folies,  and  gas  a  whole  brigade  at  Les  Puits 
d'Amour." 

"  Keep  it  in  safety,"  said  Von  der  Schultz.  "  It  is 
of  the  greatest  importance  and  I  never  leave  it  away 
from  me."  He  looked  at  Janover  with  sudden  emo- 
tion. **  Not  with  any  other  would  I  trust  it,  Mark, 
only  you  in  all  the  world,  outside  my  Staff." 

Marcus  folded  up  the  map  and  held  it  between  his 
hands  as  though  his  thoughts  had  swept  him  to  some 
remote  place. 

"  I  see  that  Von  Verlhof's  regiment  is  in  your  Army 
Corps,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  Yes,  lately  come  from  the  Lorraine.  He  will  be 
glad  when  he  sees  you." 

Von  der  Schultz  walked  out  by  the  long  window. 

"  Do  not  lock  this."  he  said.  "  And  have  you  any 
message  for  me  to  tell  to  Ursule  ?  " 

"  Good-night." 

Marcus  did  not  turn  his  head  but  stood  where  he 
had  been,  holding  the  map  in  his  hands. 


296 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IT  was  soon  evident  that  all  was  not  well  with  Von 
der  Schuitz  after  his  return  from  the  rose-pink  flat 
in  the  Liitzowplatz.  A  rage  was  upon  him,  the  rage  of 
a  man  who  has  met  with  a  rebutT  that  had  hit  both  His 
intellect  and  his  vanity,  and  he  could  not  conceal  his 
sense  of  provocation. 

Stirred  to  his  muddiest  depths  his  desire  to  strike 
and  wound  drove  him  as  anger  drives  a  spoilt  child, 
and  Ursule,  having  dealt  him  a  blow,  had  awakened 
the  fox  that  lurked  in  the  nature  of  the  General  of 
the  Second  Army. 

Filled  with  his  own  thoughts,  and  busy  with  his  own 
affairs,  it  was  some  time  before  Marcus  Janover  awak- 
ened to  the  full  realization  that  Ursule  was  nearing,  if 
not  actually  face  to  face  with,  grave  personal  danger. 
Only  when  Von  der  Schuitz  hinted  openly  at  the  prob- 
ability of  her  changing  her  quarters  for  some  place 
unknown,  Marcus  suddenly  began  to  think.  He  knew 
that  his  host  had  gone  to  the  Liitzowplatz  several 
nights  in  succession,  and  that  his  mood  had  darkened 
after  each  repeated  visit  there;  therefore  it  came  as  a 
surprise  to  him  when  Von  der  Schuitz  reappeared  one 
rainy  uninteresting  afternoon,  having  regained  his 
good  humour  towards  life.  There  was  an  air  of 
achieved  result  in  his  whole  manner,  and  his  heartiness 
and  bull-like  gaiety  returned  in  double  measure. 

"  I  have  news  for  you,  Mark,  my  Friend  of  Free- 
dom," he  said  boisterously.     "  This  is  our  last  night 

297 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

in  Berlin  for  some  time  to  come.  We  start  tomorrow 
at  dawn." 

Marcus  threw  back  his  head  with  the  gesture  of  a 
man  who  has  suddenly  seen  light  in  a  long  heavy  night 
of  darkness. 

"  Tomorrow  at  dawn,"  he  repeated.  "  I  feel  as  if 
you  had  given  me  a  present  of  the  whole  earth." 

"  Tonight  I  have  a  little  supper."  Von  der  Schultz 
smiled  as  though  his  thoughts  pleased  him.  "  It  is  the 
first  time  Ursule  comes  to  my  house,  for  I  am  particu- 
lar in  these  matters  as  my  aged  mother  lives  upstairs  in 
her  apartment." 

"  Ursule  ?  "  Marcus  looked  at  him  with  some  sur- 
prise. "  So  you  have  recovered  your  old  admiration 
for  her?" 

"  You  shall  see  our  great  reconciliation."  Von  der 
Schultz  half  closed  an  eye.  "  Tomorrow  we  get  as  far 
as  Brussels,  where  our  victorious  army  is  in  garrison, 
and  then  we  move  on  to  my  Headquarters,  a  chateau 
fine  enough  for  '  der  grossc  Schweiger'  himself  to  sit 
in  and  play  chess.  You  are  on  my  personal  staff, 
Mark,  and  that  red  head  of  yours  will  be  safe  from 
English  bullets.     Neither  shall  you  live  on  Erbszviirst." 

"  So  that  I  get  there  I  don't  care  if  I  go  in  charge 
of  a  mule  team,"  he  replied  restlessly. 

His  impatience  became  unbearable  as  the  day  wore 
on,  and  he  had  collected  his  fighting  gear.  Marcus 
had  waited  long  for  a  door  to  open,  and  every  hour  ap- 
peared like  eternity.  To  think  of  Ursule  and  the  pas- 
sionate episode  she  recalled  was  impossibles  Ursule 
was  nothing  to  him,  she  belonged  to  the  hours  that 
barred  the  way  to  reality,  and  for  the  first  time  for 
many  months  Marcus  felt  the  boy  in  him  awake  and 

298 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

yearn  for  the  call  of  adventure  and  the  chance  of  his 
one  hope.  When  life  has  taken  all  hope  save  one,  the 
near  approach  of  realization  becomes  akin  to  pain. 

As  the  afternoon  turned  grey  and  the  light  dwindled 
he  went  out  and  walked  about  the  streets.  Never 
again  was  he  going  to  look  at  the  solid  heavy  build- 
ings, and  never  again  would  he  listen  to  the  bells  of 
the  Dom  swinging  out  their  chime  through  the  gather- 
ing twilight.  He  felt  like  a  ghost  as  he  wandered 
past  the  house  in  the  Mittelstrasse,  Already  the  war 
had  made  a  new  earth,  and  unknown  soldiers  and  un- 
known officers  walked  in  the  place  of  those  he  had 
been  used  to  recognize.  After  the  war,  to  come  back 
any\vhere  was  futile  at  best,  for  it  meant  a  return  to 
a  generation  who  knew  nothing  and  held  no  memories 
in  common  with  the  past.  Marcus  continued  to  think 
as  he  turned  home  again.  It  was  the  same  for  every 
one.  Battalions  would  be  filled  by  intruders  who  were 
ignorant  of  the  very  meaning  of  the  old  traditions, 
everything  would  be  changed,  and  the  best  having  gone, 
this  generation  that  knew  them  not  would  arise  and 
take  their  place. 

For  a  moment  he  stopped  and  listened  to  the  bells. 
A  whole  hour  had  slipped  by  as  he  followed  his 
thoughts,  and  the  sound  came  to  him  like  the  throb  of 
the  pulse  of  time,  through  which  life  passes,  and  passes 
on  into  silence.  A  passion  of  longing  swept  him  and 
he  prayed  suddenly  that  he  might  not  leave  this  last 
thing  he  had  to  do  unfinished.  Marcus  seldom  prayed, 
but  at  that  moment  he  supplicated  Heaven  that  he 
might  not  die  too  soon. 

There  was  a  hint  of  drama  in  the  lavish  arrange- 
299 


The  Lisht  above  the  Cross  Roads 


'to 


ments  made  for  the  reception  of  Ursule,  and  the  sup- 
per-table was  laid  out  in  the  large  dining-room  oak- 
lined  and  adorned  with  trophies  of  Von  der  Schultz' 
shooting-trips.  Marcus  noticed  the  alteration  from 
the  usual  rule  and  the  change  to  the  larger  room.  He 
wondered  at  the  success  with  which  Ursule  had  played 
her  hand,  and  he  pictured  the  old  condition  of  things 
renewed  once  more,  as  he  stayed  to  talk  for  a  little 
with  Von  der  Schultz,  whose  bull  heart  and  bull  head 
were  obviously  in  contented  conjunction,  and  went  on 
to  his  room  to  prepare  for  the  unbridled  mirth  of  the 
later  hours.  As  he  dressed  he  marvelled  at  Von  der 
Schultz*  abnormal  vanity;  and  he  guessed  at  the  line 
of  action  Ursule  had  adopted.  Women  remained 
mysterious  and  sphinx-like  in  their  methods,  and 
though  he  knew  well  the  necessity  that  was  ever  upon 
him  to  play  his  own  part  and  act  convincingly,  he 
thought  of  Ursule  and  a  pity  for  her  welled  up  in  his 
heart.  The  farewell  mood  was  with  him,  for  all 
things  are  different  when  it  comes  to  taking  a  last 
look.  Marcus  was  prepared  to  make  the  best  of  the 
evening,  since,  like  all  earthly  things,  it  had  to  end 
some  time.  Everything  ended  some  time,  that  was  all 
that  really  mattered,  and  soon  there  would  be  other 
things  to  think  of  and  other  sounds  to  hear.  Already 
the  wind  of  adventure  touched  his  forehead  and  eyes, 
lie  sat  down  and  thought  of  what  he  once  had 
wished  for  with  all  his  ambitious  heart:  of  his  old 
passion  of  vision,  the  wide  domain  with  Fame  and 
Love  waiting  for  him,  perfect  beyond  all  thought. 
Everything  had  slipped  away,  dissolved  into  thin 
wraiths  of  past  memory,  and  nothing  remained  of  it 
all.     He  felt  at  a  slender  packet  that  lay  safe  in  an 

300 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

inside  pocket  and  smiled  in  his  old  fashion.  "  Some 
one  has  to  do  the  dirty  work,  Mother,  and  I  am  a 
Saturday's  child.'' 

He  got  up  and  turned  off  the  lights,  and  as  he  stood 
in  the  darkness  a  sudden  premonition  touched  him,  of 
the  kind  that  is  familiar  to  all  who  are  intensely  per- 
ceptive. He  knew  that  he  was  nearing  developments, 
and  his  whole  body  thrilled  as  though  he  had  been 
touched  by  an  unseen  hand. 

"  This  won't  do,"  he  thought  quickly,  and  pulling 
himself  together  he  walked  into  the  empty  Empfangs- 
zimmcr  and  on  into  the  dining-room,  where  he  heard 
the  sound  of  voices. 

The  room  was  warm  and  the  scent  of  roses  almost 
oppressive,  the  table  stood  in  a  circle  of  soft  light  out- 
side which  the  servants  came  and  went  like  shadows, 
their  steps  making  no  sound  on  the  carpet.  It  was 
impossible,  looking  at  tlie  picture  it  presented,  to  real- 
ize that  war  was  raging  on  a  frontier  only  a  few  hours' 
journey  from  the  carnival  and  glamour  within  the  four 
walls. 

Von  der  Schultz  was  standing,  and  Ursule,  clad  in  a 
dress  of  vivid  purple,  had  already  taken  her  place  at 
the  table.  Marcus  knew  as  he  came  into  the  room 
that  Ursule  was  looking  to  her  guns,  but  Von  der 
Schultz  radiated  gross  content.  He  had  taken  some 
pams  to  appear  more  than  usually  imposing,  and  he 
struck  the  desired  note  forcefully;  he  was  every  inch 
a  successful  General.  His  supper-party  manner  of 
other  times  was  present  in  his  voice  as  he  welcomed 
Janover,  and  they  sat  down  at  the  table. 

"  Look  well  at  her,  Mark,"  he  said,  indicating  Ur- 
sula with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  much  as  if  he  was  talk- 

301 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

ing  of  a  new  charger  lately  acquired.  "  She  is  worth 
looking  at,  is  she  not  ?  " 

Marcus  met  her  eyes  and  smiled. 

"  My  compliments,  Ursule.  You  look  like  a  purple 
miracle.  What  does  one  say  about  clothes?  Your 
dress  is  as  tremendous  as  the  star-spangled  banner  and 
as  light  and  frivolous  as  Yankee  Doodle  Do."  Once 
again  the  flooding  sweep  of  the  tumult  beneath  the 
surface  caught  his  nerves,  and  he  talked  on,  hardly 
knowing  what  he  said. 

"  Are  you  just  going  to  fly  up  to  Heaven,  or  vanish 
under  the  table?  Upon  my  soul,  I  don't  know  if  you 
are  an  angel  or  a  devil." 

"  Oh,  an  angel."  Von  der  Schultz  spoke  with  fer- 
vour and  held  up  his  glass.  "  My  adored,  you  do  not 
eat.  I  .shall  come  and  kiss  vou  if  you  look  at  me  like 
that." 

Ursule  lowered  her  eyes  and  made  a  pretence  to 
finish  the  food  she  played  with. 

"  It  is  because  I  go."  he  explained,  drawing  his  chair 
nearer  to  his  guest.  "  Her  poor  little  heart,  so  loving 
a  little  heart,  is  cold  with  fear.  Ursule,  tell  Mark  Jan- 
over  how  you  love  me." 

Her  face  flushed  deeply. 

"  Do  not  tease  me,  Hans." 

"  Yet  today  you  told  me  once,  twice,  and  three 
times  that  you  loved  me." 

Marcus  turned  quickly  and  upset  his  glass.  "  I  am 
confoundedly  clumsy."  he  apologized. 

"  It  is  no  matter,"  said  his  host  in  the  same  tri- 
umphant manner.  "  There  is  an  English  proverb 
about  spilt  milk  and  tears.  You  have  spilled  the 
Champagncr,  but  no  one  will  weep,  mein  Lieber.     To- 

302 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

night  we  all  are  going  to  laugh  and  be  gay  because 
good  Hans  Breitmann  has  given  a  party  as  you  used 
to  sing: 

Hans  Breitmann  gave  a  party. 
Vere  is  dot  party  now  ?  " 

All  through  the  supper  the  curious  rioting  mood  of 
Von  der  Schultz  governed  and  dominated  his  guests, 
and  long  before  it  was  through  Marcus  knew  that  his 
attitude  of  exaggerated  gallantry  towards  Ursule  held 
in  it  something  more  than  an  offensive  desire  to  parade 
his  ownership.  The  eyes  of  General  von  der  Schultz 
gave  him  away,  and  he  regarded  her,  not  with  love,  or 
its  equivalent  in  his  scale  of  emotions,  but  with  a 
deadly,  persistent  cruelty  that  evoked  in  him  a  sensa- 
tion of  joy.  When  the  servants  withdrew  silence  fell 
upon  the  small  party,  and  the  thoughts  of  all  three 
were  visibly  seated  in  their  eyes  for  the  fraction  of  a 
second. 

Von  der  Schultz  got  up  and  stood  behind  Ursule's 
chair,  his  hands  on  her  shoulders,  and  then,  with  a 
sudden  movement,  he  bent  forward  and  caught  her 
wrists. 

"  Checkmate,"  he  said,  and  Marcus  knew  that  the 
psychological  moment  that  had  made  its  coming  felt 
was  upon  them. 

In  one  moment  the  tumult  beneath  the  surface  rose 
like  a  travelling  tide.  Ursule  stood  up  and  wrenched 
her  hands  away.  Only  Marcus  remained  seated, 
catching  desperately  at  a  normal  attitude. 

"  A  fine  piece  of  play-acting,  Hans.  I  didn't  realize 
that    I    was    invited    to    a    theatrical    entertainment. 

303 


,The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Ursula's  Avrists  look  as  if  you  had  been  over-realistic. 
Sit  down  and  let  us  be  sane." 

Von  der  Schultz  sat  down,  but  before  he  did  so  he 
kicked  over  the  chair  in  which  Ursule  had  been  seated, 
and  spreading  out  his  legs  he  leaned  back,  watching 
her. 

"  So  you  thought  you  had  deceived  me?"  he  said. 
"  You  thought  me  a  fool?  " 

"  How  dare  you  ?  "     She  turned  on  him. 

"  This  woman,"  continued  Von  der  Schultz.  speak- 
ing to  Marcus,  "  is  a  spy  in  Franco-British  pay." 

"  I  am  not  in  British  or  in  French  pay.  My  record 
is  known  to  the  authorities,  who  will  clear  me." 

"  She  has  tampered  with  my  official  papers,  and  it  is 
certain  now  that  it  is  through  her  that  much  informa- 
tion has  got  through  to  the  enemy.  I  have  convincing 
proof  of  her  last  attempt " 

Marcus  looked  at  Ursule  and  stood  up.  She  was 
fiddling  with  a  long  diamond  chain,  and  she  only 
glanced  at  him  and  shook  her  head  almost  impercep- 
tibly. 

"  Hans,  this  is  all  sheer  madness."  He  spoke  with 
vehemence.  "  It  is  lunacy.  You  might  as  well  ac- 
cuse me  —  why,  it  would  be  infinitely  saner  of  you  if 
you  did." 

Von  der  Schultz  laughed. 

"  I  promise  you,  Mark,  your  name  has  been  in  ques- 
tion more  than  once.  It  is  not  you  who  have  betrayed 
us,  and  I  have  proof  that  it  is  the  woman  known  as 
Ursule  Seguin,  of  French  nationality."  He  pulled  his 
chair  to  the  table  and  swept  a  space  clear  with  his 
arm ;  feeling  in  his  pocket,  he  took  out  the  "  future  " 
map  and  laid  it  on  the  polished  surface. 

304 


,The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  You  remember  this,  zvasf  I  had  better  have  left 
it  in  your  keeping,  but  I  went  to  the  Liitzowplatz  and 
—  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  details,  but  look  at  it. 
That  map  has  been  tampered  with."  He  pointed  to  a 
small  ink  mark  in  the  heart  of  a  gridiron  of  fine  lines. 
"  This,  my  friend,  has  been  under  the  microscope,  and 
it  is  a  stranger  to  me.  that  mark.  The  pen  was  sharp 
and  the  tracing  paper  thin,  hcinf  There  is  another 
here,"  he  splayed  out  his  hand,  "  and  even  another. 
Madame  was  not  as  careful  as  she  should  have  been, 
and  she  leaned  a  little  too  hard  because  she  was  in  a 
hurry.     Time  was  short  for  such  a  piece  of  work." 

Marcus  laid  his  hand  on  Von  der  Schultz'  arm. 

"  Hans,  if  this  is  Prussian  *  vigour,'  for  God's  sake, 
drop  it.  We  aren't  in  Belgium.  Look  at  Ursule  and 
think  of  what  you  are  doing.  As  for  the  map  having 
been  traced,  it  doesn't  appear  to  me  to  have  been 
touched."  He  looked  closely  at  it  and  held  it  to  the 
light  with  a  perfectly  steady  hand.  **  In  Berlin  there 
isn't  any  need  to  keep  up  a  reputation  for  killing  your 
fellow-creatures.  Anyhow  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
fair  play." 

"  The  map  has  been  traced,"  said  Von  der  Schultz 
stubbornly,  "  and  as  for  your  crotchets,  Mark,  you 
are  blinded  by  your  ridiculous  English  training." 

"  But,  good  God,  Ursule  is  a  human  being.  Is 
there  no  common  charity  in  you?  " 

"  Next  you  will  offer  to  take  her  place  against  the 
wall,"  said  Von  der  Schultz  impatiently.  "  I  tell  you 
I  am  entirely  satisfied  with  the  proofs  before  me." 

Marcus  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  and  then  quite  idly  he  strolled 
across  to  Ursule  as  if  he  had  suddenly  awakened  to 

305 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

find  himself  at  a  dance,  and  in  his  bored  easy  manner 
desired  to  invite  her  to  be  his  partner. 

"  Go  and  sit  down,  Ursule,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I 
have  a  little  explanation  to  make  to  General  von  der 
Schultz." 

Ursule  leaned  on  the  back  of  a  chair  and  laughed  the 
low  wicked  laugh  that  had  first  attracted  the  attention 
of  Marcus  long  ago  in  the  Paris  Cafe. 

"  So  you  can  now  learn,  mon  General,"  she  said, 
speaking  insolently  in  French,  "  how  Irishmen,  even 
when  naturalized,  treat  women.  You  asked  me  if  I 
thought  I  had  deceived  you,  fooled  you  ?  I  have  done 
both." 

"  She  is  mad,"  said  Marcus,  his  face  white  and  his 
voice  changed  and  hoarse. 

Von  der  Schultz  threw  a  vile  name  at  her.  "  So 
you  admit  it." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  only  regret  pro- 
foundly that  the  tracing  I  made  was  destroyed.  I  felt 
this  coming,  for  you  are  too  childish,  7non  General,  to 
be  a  good  diplomatist.  However,  much  else  has  suc- 
ceeded; and  I  fooled  you  and  fooled  you  until  you 
wearied  me  too  much  to  continue  the  game.  Bah!  you 
never  checkmated  me ;  I  let  you  take  me." 

She  stood  staring  Von  der  Schultz  in  the  eyes,  the 
very  embodiment  of  insolent  contempt.  Under  her 
look  all  trace  of  self-control  vanished  from  his  face 
and  voice,  and  he  poured  a  torrent  of  coarse  abuse 
upon  her  until  at  last  he  was  spent,  and  rising  from  his 
chair  he  left  the  room,  closing  the  door  behind  him 
with  a  resounding  clang. 

When  he  was  gone  she  turned  to  Marcus  and  caught 
his  arm  with  both  her  hands. 

306 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  One  is  enough,  Mark,  and  you  see  it  is  too  late. 
If  you  speak  now  it  only  makes  two  of  us  and  that  is 
folly." 

"  It  is  damnable,"  he  said,  holding  her  in  his  arms. 
"  Ursule,  why  did  you  do  this,  and  why  did  I  use  ink 
instead  of  a  pencil?  " 

"  Ah,  why?  "  She  rested  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 
"  Perhaps  I  dreamed  of  this  minute.  It  is  a  happy  one 
and  worth  the  payment." 

"  But  you  are  free  from  all  blame." 

"  That  does  not  count.  The  French  could  have  shot 
me  over  the  old  affair ;  as  it  was,  Hyppolite  shot  him- 
self. There  is  no  need  that  I  should  go  on;  there  is  a 
need  for  you."  She  raised  her  head  and  listened  to  a 
distant  sound  of  a  bell  whirring  continuously.  "  Hans 
is  telephoning  the  police.  Keep  your  nerve  steady 
when  they  come,  and  help  me  by  silence.  Do  not  turn 
this  last  little  hour  into  despair.  Let  me  end  as  a 
martyr,  Mark,  not  as  a  tragic  fool." 

Marcus  thought  painfully.  He  saw  the  prison 
courtyard,  the  grey  surrounding  walls,  the  firing  party 
lined  up  with  their  rifles  pointing  steadily;  he  thought 
of  the  moment  before  the  neat  sharp  volley  rang  out, 
the  moment  when  time  grew  remote  and  the  gay  glad 
dawn  lighted  the  world;  all  the  nightmare  agony  of 
life  lifted  at  last.  It  appealed  as  the  strongest  temp- 
tation that  had  ever  presented  itself  to  his  mind;  the 
way  out,  swift,  simple,  and  alluring  as  the  river  of 
rest  to  a  weary  soul.  Yet  the  easy  way  was  barred, 
there  were  no  short  cuts  in  his  life;  in  the  midst  of 
change  that  law  held  him  inexorably. 

"  Ursule,  you  love  life  and  I  do  not,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  her  earnestly. 

Z07 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

She  drew  his  face  down  to  her  and  kissed  him. 

*'  Death  is  always  behind  the  door,  Mark,  and  I  have 
a  great  curiosity  about  it." 

As  she  spoke  she  drew  away  from  him  and  took  up 
her  old  position  leaning  over  the  back  of  the  chair. 
There  were  footsteps  outside  and  Von  der  Schultz 
threw  the  door  open  and  came  in,  followed  by  two  men 
in  police  uniform. 

"  Seguin  has  admitted  that  the  accusation  is  true," 
he  said  with  grim  brevity. 

"  Certainly,  Messieurs."  Ursule  held  out  her  wrists 
and  smiled.     "  I  am  perfectly  ready." 

Marcus  turned  away  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
room,  and  once  again  he  heard  her  speak  as  she  passed 
out  at  the  door. 

"  Vhfe  la  Patrie,  Vive  I'Angleterre!"  her  voice 
rang  like  a  challenge,  and  then  the  footsteps  died  away. 

"  So"  said  Von  der  Schultz,  brushing  up  his  mous- 
tache, "  you  are  learning,  Mark,  and  that  is  finished 
with.     "  Nun  to  bed,  for  you  and  I  start  early." 

An  hour  later  Marcus  sat  by  his  open  window ;  his 
face  looked  strained  and  old  in  the  grey  morning 
light,  and  his  eyes  were  bereft  of  their  courage  and 
valiancy.  There  was  nothing  of  comfort  or  illusion 
anywhere.  Love  gone,  honour  gone,  hope  dead ;  there 
only  remained  the  fulfilment  of  his  task,  to  be  carried 
through  at  all  cost.  He  wondered  if  there  was  any- 
thing else  he  could  be  called  upon  to  lay  on  the  altar 
of  sacrifice;  anything  further  to  be  done  that  hurled 
him  more  hopelessly  below  the  very  traditions  that 
made  the  country  he  served  worth  his  soul's  damna- 
tion. 

'308 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Other  men  bled  for  her,  starved  for  her,  died  for 
her,  but  he  feasted  and  drank  and  laughed  and  was  a 
cherished  friend  in  the  house  of  her  foes.  Other  men 
finished  the  game  under  the  sun  or  the  stars;  his 
agony  was  enacted  under  shaded  lights  amid  the  scent 
of  many  flowers.  The  horror  of  it  was  unbearable, 
but  it  had  to  be  endured. 


309 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

SUMMER  brooded  and  shimmered  over  France, 
and  Nature  with  her  eternal  reconstructive  pa- 
tience called  leaf  and  blossom  into  life  along  the 
trenches,  and  the  flying  shadows  of  high  white  clouds 
drifting  on  a  wide  blue  sky  floated  like  phantom 
legions  over  the  living  armies  that  crowded  either  side 
of  the  trench  lines. 

In  spite  of  the  sorrow  of  war,  France  was  beautiful, 
and  patches  of  colour  showed  in  blending  harmony 
where  different  crops  were  planted.  The  dark  green 
of  the  beetroot,  the  yellow  green  of  the  growing  com ; 
but  for  the  most  part  the  fields  were  sown  with  seed 
that  is  raised  incorruptible. 

All  day  and  night  the  noise  of  war  rolled  and 
echoed,  and  the  detonation  of  big  guns  and  the  chorus 
of  the  field  guns  and  the  crack  of  rifle  fire  went  on 
persistently.  Lyddite  and  high  explosives  rained  from 
the  sky,  and  the  scream  of  shells  tore  the  air  like  rend- 
ing worlds  descending  into  space.  To  Marcus  Jan- 
over  the  sounds  were  as  welcome  as  the  "  watch-dog's 
honest  bark  "  to  a  wanderer,  and  he  settled  into  the 
new  conditions  of  life  with  ease  and  rapidity. 

The  headquarters  of  General  von  der  Schultz'  Staff 
were  situated  in  a  chateau  at  the  end  of  the  little  vil- 
lage of  Les  Berneuilles.  The  chateau  stood  behind  a 
high  rough  cast  wall,  and  was  not  a  dignified  stone 
building,  but  only  a  long,  narrow,  yellow-plastered 
house  with  a  pigeon-cote  on  the  basse  cour,  and  a  few 

310 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

trampled  flower-beds  in  front.  The  trees,  that  had 
formerly  protected  it  from  the  road  and  given  it  a 
greater  privacy  in  the  days  when  the  simple  happy 
owners  had  lived  under  the  lichen-grown  roof,  had 
been  felled,  and  except  for  the  garden  at  the  back 
where  a  bosquet  still  made  a  little  nest  of  green  shade 
by  the  inevitable  French  lac  and  nymph-supported 
fountain,  there  was  a  starkness  of  outline  about  the 
chateau  that  intensified  its  appearance  of  having  fallen 
upon  evil  times,  which  it  was  too  flimsy  to  support  with 
even  a  draggled  effect  of  dignity. 

The  space  in  front  of  the  house  Vv^as  perpetually 
crowded,  and  men  in  every  grade  of  uniform  came 
and  went  in  a  never-ceasing  stream  of  life.  Cars 
and  motor  bicycles  sped  in  and  out  day  and  night, 
and  the  gaunt  windows  watched  all  that  went  on,  like 
hollow  eyes  full  of  disenchanted  patience. 

The  day  after  his  arrival  at  Les  Berneuilles  Marcus 
went  out  to  take  a  reconnaissance  of  a  special  comer 
of  the  British  position,  and  he  accepted  his  orders 
gladly,  for  they  coincided  with  a  plan  which  had  ma- 
tured itself  in  his  mind  for  some  time.  He  started  at 
daybreak,  and  was  absent  all  day,  and  when  he  re- 
turned his  horse  and  he  were  dog-tired. 

A  gust  of  fine  rain  blew  out  of  a  sunlit  cloud  and 
fell  in  rosy  vapour  over  the  nearer  woods,  passing 
on  to  leave  the  sky  one  great  burning  glory.  The 
whole  country  reflected  the  light,  and  the  chateau, 
startled  out  of  its  cowering  chill,  flashed  back  the 
colour  bravely;  but  before  Marcus  had  reached  the 
gates  the  sky  had  fallen  dull  and  the  tints  had  faded. 

Happiness  comes  to  even  the  most  irresponsible 
of  mortals  when  a  diflicult  task  is  accomplished,  and 

311 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Marcus  felt  a  sensation  of  profound  relief.  He  might 
now  go  on  along  the  path  that  lay  ahead  without  the 
driving  knowledge  that  somehoiv  the  "  Future  "  map 
must  be  got  through  to  the  British  lines.  Even  the 
heavy  chance  of  an  entire  change  of  plan,  consequent 
upon  the  discovery  of  the  tracing  of  the  map,  had  not 
followed  as  Marcus  expected  it  might.  Von  der 
Schultz  saw  nothing  to  fear  from  that  quarter,  and 
his  main  object  was  to  hasten  the  concentrated  attack. 
The  map  had  been  bought  at  a  price,  and  its  safe  con- 
duct had  cost  Ursule's  life  —  her  life  against  his  few 
easy  lies;  he  felt  he  owed  it  to  Ursule  to  make  her 
sacrifice  worth  its  gallant  impulse,  and  he  had  in- 
tended to  pay  as  fully  as  she  had  done,  if  it  were  neces- 
sary. 

His  mouth  twisted  into  an  ironical  smile  as  he  rode 
in  at  the  gate  and  along  the  path  to  the  stables.  He 
had  pictured  something  fine  or  adroit  in  the  achieve- 
ment of  passing  across  the  map.  and  instead  the  luck 
that  was  with  him  in  little  incidents  remained  some- 
thing to  marvel  at. 

He  had  got  without  difficulty  to  a  British  listening 
post,  and  chanced  upon  an  officer's  patrol,  without 
any  long  tension  of  waiting;  the  officer  in  charge  was 
Hartley,  Auriol  Hartley,  sometime  scholar  of  All 
Souls,  whom  Marcus  had  last  met  in  the  High  at 
Oxford  as  he  stood  looking  up  at  St.  Mary's  spire. 

Hartley  had  expressed  a  certain  well-bred  surprise 
at  seeing  him,  but  the  Oxford  manner  remained  stead- 
fast even  under  what  must  have  been  a  rude  shock. 
Janover's  eyes  lighted  with  amusement  as  he  rode 
slowly  on  and  recalled  it.  Nothing  less  remarkable 
than  the  blare  of  the  last  trumpet,  if  even  that,  could 

312 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

arouse  anything  more  violent  than  a  polite  expres- 
sion of  bored  astonishment.  Hartley  had  been  so 
much  surprised  to  find  himself  a  subaltern  in  Kitchen- 
er's army  that  he  had  exhausted  his  powers  of  amaze- 
ment, and  nothing  was  left  that  could  weigh  against 
that  one  great  wonder.  He  had  been  quite  intelligent, 
and  had  listened  carefully  to  anything  that  Marcus 
could  tell  him  in  addition  to  the  notes  on  the  margin 
of  the  map  itself,  and  so  the  dramatic  moment  became 
reduced  to  something  that  partook  of  the  nature  of  an 
abstract  idea. 

It  was  hard  to  believe  that  the  thing  was  actually 
done,  Hartley  with  his  manner  as  smooth  as  sealing 
wax,  and  quite  as  polished,  could  have  robbed  even 
melodrama  of  its  violence,  and  his  conventions  ab- 
sorbed the  daring  of  Ursule's  dying  gift  and  covered 
it  with  the  folds  of  his  own  mantle  of  good  form. 
For  Marcus  the  impression  was  both  acute  and  unreal. 
He  had  expected  fire  and  whirlwind  to  come  and  mark 
the  moment  when  he  gave  the  keys  into  the  hands  of 
the  British,  and  there  was  neither  whirlwind  nor  fire. 
He  felt  almost  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  he  ex- 
perienced no  heaviness  of  the  nearing  sense  of  closing 
forces.  Remoteness  fell  upon  him  as  he  walked, 
without  haste  or  excitement,  up  the  dim  alley  of  chest- 
nuts still  standing  along  the  avenue  from  the  stables, 
and  came  by  the  spong}'  gravel  path  to  the  crowded 
sweep  before  the  entrance. 

Some  of  the  windows  were  already  bright  with 
lamps,  and  in  the  largest  of  the  rooms  on  the  right 
of  the  hall  he  could  see  half  a  dozen  men  of  the  Staf¥ 
studying  a  large-scale  map. 

Marcus  watched  their  engrossed  faces,  and  the  ex- 

313 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

aggerated  shadows  they  threw  on  the  wall  behind,  and 
he  could  tell  that  Ingolstadt  was  talking  of  what  had 
happened  on  the  Marne,  as  he  always  did.  The  Stab 
were  quite  well  satisfied,  and  were  making  jokes ;  no 
unrest,  no  fear,  no  anxiety,  no  tension  to  hide;  all 
was  going  as  smoothly  as  the  orderlies  who  came  in 
and  out  with  budgets  of  papers,  for  the  general  ad- 
vance had  begun,  and  the  Stab  were  discussing  a 
Cabaret  they  knew  in  Bethune  where  they  hoped  the 
headquarters  would  be  installed  by  the  following  eve- 
ning. 

Through  the  room  where  the  Staff  officers  were 
busy  with  the  map,  and  where  the  noise  of  voices  was 
intermittent,  a  closed  door  shut  off  another  room  which 
had  once  been  a  Frenchwoman's  boudoir,  where  Gen- 
eral von  der  Schultz  could  admire  himself  in  half  a 
dozen  mirrors  beautifully  framed,  but  disfigured  by 
cracks  and  damaged  corners.  One  or  two  gilded 
chairs  stood  about  the  room,  and  a  sofa  covered  with 
painted  satin  was  piled  with  official  documents.  Von 
der  Schultz'  revolver  lay  in  the  centre  of  a  rose-pink 
basket  that  stood  on  ribbon-bound  legs,  and  still  held 
a  powder  puff  and  a  bottle  of  "  Millefleurs."  On  the 
walls  where  the  pictures  were  such  as  appealed  to  the 
General,  they  had  been  left,  and  where  they  were 
merely  religious  they  had  been  torn  down  to  make  place 
for  charts  and  maps  and  orders,  stuck  on  nails  and 
files. 

Von  der  Schultz  had  two  strong  electric  lamps  on 
his  table;  the  self-conscious  air  that  formed  a  striking 
part  of  his  personality  had  vanished.  He  was  real  at 
that  moment  with  a  compelling  reality. 

Opposite  to  him  Eitel  von  Verlhof  sat  on  a  Rose 

314 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

du  Barri  chair,  his  face  and  eyes  full  of  elation. 
Pride  was  with  him,  the  highest  pride  a  man  can  feel, 
for  he  was  chosen  to  lead  the  advance,  and  his  was 
the  assaulting  battalion.  A  wave  of  emotion  swept 
over  Eitel,  and  his  imagination  raced  on,  picturing 
the  whole  glorious  advance,  and  the  wonderful  vic- 
torious moment  when  the  men  poured  out  of  the 
trenches  and  swept  pitilessly  down  on  the  battered 
British  lines. 

As  he  rose  to  go,  a  knock  came  to  the  door,  and 
Eitel  turned  to  find  himself  face  to  face  with  Marcus 
Janover. 

"  You  advance  at  a  point  where  the  position  is  abso- 
lutely assured.  Ingolstadt  has  the  details,"  said  Von 
der  Schultz  in  conclusion.  "  Gliicklichc  Reise."  Eitel 
saluted,  throwing  something  infinitely  greater  and  in- 
finitely more  than  mere  form  into  his  act.  It  was  as 
though  the  young  Oberst  Lieutenant  saluted  his  coun- 
try's destiny  and  his  own,  and  saw  them  stand  united. 
Marcus  watched  both  men  from  his  place  at  the  door. 
There  was  something  electric  in  the  air  of  the  room 
that  touched  them;  one  realistically  uncompromising, 
the  other  with  eyes  as  full  of  inspiration  as  the  eyes 
of  Galahad  when  the  Holy  Grail  descended  towards 
him  on  a  ray  from  the  parted  heavens. 

Von  Verlhof  linked  his  arm  into  Janover's,  and 
they  went  out  together  and  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  vociferously  cheerful  Staff,  who  shook  Eitel  by 
the  hand  and  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  Every 
one  loved  Eitel  von  Verlhof,  and  every  one  wished 
him  well.  They  knew  that  his  chance  had  come,  and 
they  hoped  to  a  man  that  he  would  return  with  honour 
and  distinction. 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  That  is  the  damnable  part  of  Staff  work,"  said 
Ingolstadt,  slipping  his  hand  under  Janover's  shoulder- 
strap,  "  our  Mark  isn't  even  a  decent  Staff  officer.  He 
•went  off  today  —  after  some  woman  or  other." 

**  I'm  not  into  a  job  yet,"  said  Marcus.  "  I'm  hop- 
ing to  get  rid  of  my  tabs  .  .  .  presently,  and  to  get 
into  action."  Disengaging  himself  from  his  friends, 
Eitel  walked  out  into  the  garden  with  Marcus. 

A  stone  seat  stood  under  a  dark  cedar  tree,  and 
in  a  pond  below  a  moss-grown  nymph  held  up  her 
arms  under  the  thin  trickle  of  the  fountain.  The 
gleam  of  water  was  clear  in  the  twilight,  and  the 
sweet  Avild  scent  of  apple  blossoms  filled  the  air. 
Here  and  there  a  star  shone  out  in  the  pink  light  of 
the  evening  sky,  and  the  garden  looked  as  it  must 
have  looked  on  many  such  evenings  to  other  eyes, 
before  the  world  became  a  changed  place,  a  cemetery 
of  many  memories. 

"  It  is  my  great  chance,"  said  Eitel  von  Verlhof, 
sitting  down  on  the  seat.  Marcus  picked  up  a  hand- 
ful of  pebbles  and  threw  them  slowly  into  the  water. 
The  peace  of  the  still  surface  troubled  him,  and  he 
desired  to  break  it.  Peace  and  beauty  at  such  a  mo- 
ment were  unendurable ;  the  stars  hung  low  in  the 
summer  mist  and  showed  clear  and  holy  like  the  faces 
of  saints,  and  he  felt  an  overwhelming  mutiny  possess 
him. 

There  was  nothing  to  strike  him  dumb,  no  power 
that  deprived  him  of  a  voice  with  which  he  could 
shout  to  Eitel  till  the  echoes  rang,  that  if  he  went 
with  the  assaulting  battalion  he  went  straight  to  his 
death.  He  remembered  how  he  had  looked  out  of 
the  window  in  the  room  in  Berlin  and  heard  Lord 

316 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

Shaw  ford's  pen  travelling  over  a  page  of  paper,  and 
he  knew  that,  even  then,  he  had  foreseen  this  mo- 
ment, and,  as  one  sees  things  at  a  far  distance  almost 
unconsciously,  this  hour  had  been  revealed  to  him, 
while  he  struggled  hopelessly  against  the  invisible 
force  that  changed  his  destiny.  All  the  innumerable 
incidents  that  a  thousand  accidents  had  brought  about 
had  led  him  to  this  exact  spot  under  the  darkness  of 
the  cedars,  where  his  agony  was  waiting  for  him. 

The  whole  plan  was  decided,  God  alone  knew  where, 
and  he  was  helpless  against  it.  A  terrible  certitude 
fell  upon  him,  and  he  dropped  the  little  pebbles  list- 
lessly through  his  fingers. 

"  Congratulate  me,  mein  Freund." 

"  I  can't,"  he  answered  with  difficulty,  "  there's  too 
]t)ig  an  '  if  '  involved." 

Von  Verlhof  laughed  his  wide  breezy  laugh. 

"  W'hy,  you  were  always  like  fire.  What  has  turned 
you  cold? " 

"  I  wish  to  God  you  were  not  going." 

Eitel  touched  his  arm  sympathetically. 

"  But  Von  der  Schultz  said  —  you  heard  him  — 
that  the  position  is  assured.  Our  Generals  do  not 
hide  the  truth  as  the  British  do,  or  send  us  out  on 
a  forlorn  hope  with  a  bucketful  of  eyewash  and  a 
spoonful  of  syrup,  and  no  high  explosives  and  no  re- 
inforcements. Hans  is  perfectly  honest  with  his  offi- 
cers. No  one  has  that  up  against  him.  It's  man  to 
man  with  Hans  when  there's  fighting  to  be  done." 

"I  know,"  Marcus  said  thoughtfully.  "Don't  let 
us  talk  of  it,  Eitel."  He  looked  up  at  the  sky.  "  Do 
you  see  that  star  ?  You  know  what  it  makes  me  think 
of?" 

317 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  Plesper,  Fraulein  Hesper." 

Janover  nodded. 

"  It  shines  out  there  over  the  darkness  and  the  brok- 
enness  of  life,  and  it  is  over  and  above  it  all.  Some- 
times I  think  when  one  has  suffered  up  to  a  certain 
point  that  there  are  hours  when  one  climbs  up  to  the 
stars." 

"  The  road  to  the  stars,"  Eitel  said  in  a  low  voice, 
the  soft  German  words  sounding  like  melody. 

"  After  the  war,"  he  went  on,  pausing  perceptibly, 
"—well,  Marcus?" 

"After  the  war?  God  in  Heaven,  who  wants  any 
*  after  '?  "     Janover  spoke  roughly. 

"  Yet  when  one  loves  one  goes  on  loving  Love 
may  know  shame  or  grief  or  mad  anger,  Mark,  but  it 
cannot  cease.  Fraulein  Hesper  is  not  made  of  the 
stufT  that  breaks." 

Marcus  interrupted  him  with  a  stifled  sound  of 
pain.  "  Can't  you  see  me  through  her  eyes  ?  A  cheap, 
common,  second-rate  edition  of  Iscariot.  The  Prod- 
igal had  his  welcome  because  he  was  a  decent  sort  of 
devil  who  paid  for  what  he  bought  and  behaved  like 
any  young  fool  who  is  still  a  gentleman.  But  a  mean 
slinking  traitor " 

"  She  loves  you,  Mark." 

"  I  believed  I  had  paid  my  account  a  few  nights 
back."  Janover  laughed  mirthlessly.  "  It  is  not  so. 
I  have  yet  more  to  pay,  and  this  last  settlement  leaves 
me  beggared  of  everything." 

Eitel  was  deeply  grieved,  and  he  found  nothing  to 
say,  he  felt  his  friend's  pain  of  mind  as  truly  as  if  it 
was  his  own. 

"  Death  that  makes  heroes  of  us  all  can't  save  me. 
31S 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

My  Hie  Jacet  may  not  be  splashed  in  with  a  white- 
wash brush,"  he  went  on  dully,  and  then,  as  though 
some  latent  force  stirred  within  him,  he  rallied  him- 
self and  laughed  again. 

"  What  a  cheery  egotist  I  am.  Croaking  like  a 
frog  over  my  own  bitter  cates  which  I  cooked  for 
myself.  You  are  for  the  fireworks,  Eitel;  you'll  be 
out  in  an  hour  or  two  with  maddeningly  exciting 
searchlights  and  star-shells,  and  the  hum  of  the  bul- 
lets, and  the  race  forward  when  the  barbed  wire  is 
down.  A  close  assault ;  God !  that's  worth  having, 
even  if  it  means  coming  in  on  a  stretcher  at  the  end." 

"  Yes,  it's  all  worth  it."  Eitel  got  up  and  stood 
facing  Marcus.  "  If  I  fail,  and  you  find  her  again, 
will  you  tell  her  that  though  I  was  on  the  other  side 
I  carried  the  thought  of  her  with  me.  Some  women 
make  men  weak  when  they  think  of  them,  others  make 
them  brave." 

"  I  shall  never  find  her  again,  not  in  this  world  or 
the  next." 

Eitel  put  his  hands  on  Janover's  shoulders.  "  Good- 
bye, Mark,  good-bye,  my  best  of  friends." 

"  And  Judas  went  out  and  hanged  himself,"  said 
Marcus  in  a  dry  whisper  as  the  ring  of  Eitel's  foot- 
steps d'ed  away. 


319 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

IT  was  late  the  following  afternoon,  and  the  flat 
marshes  of  Flanders  were  holding  the  last  of  the 
evening  light,  when  Marcus  Janover,  a  rifle  across 
his  shoulder  and  a  torn  khaki  coat  on  his  back,  came 
along  the  road  that  led  to  the  Red  Cross  Clearing 
Station  behind  the  British  lines.  His  cap  was  on  the 
back  of  his  head  and  he  walked  along  limping  a  little, 
but  in  every  respect  looking  like  any  other  weary  in- 
fantry soldier  of  the  brigade. 

Behind  him  stretched  the  desired  hours  of  action, 
beginning  from  the  moment  when  he  had  slipped  into 
a  barn  behind  a  blazing  haystack  and  exchanged  clothes 
with  a  dead  man.  Then  he  had  plunged  again  into  the 
rending  crash  of  noise  and  voices  shouting,  and  for 
a  little,  thought  let  him  go  free  and  live  wildly  and 
dangerously  with  the  rest.  It  was  only  when  the  weary 
troops  were  strengthening  their  fortifications  against 
the  possibility  of  a  counter-attack  or  recapture  of  the 
advanced  line  that  he  came  back  to  the  icy  grip  of  his 
great  dread,  and  slipped  away  from  the  platoons  that 
lined  the  roads.  Confusion  reigned  behind  the  ad- 
vance and  he  was  neither  noticed  nor  missed.  He  took 
his  bearings  carefully,  for  the  battalions  which  had 
rushed  the  position  were  waiting,  holding  on  to  their 
gains  and  preparing  for  a  renewed  assault  at  dawn. 
The  British  guns  had  got  the  range  of  the  village  of 
Les  Berneuilles,  the  main  objective,  towards  which  the 

320 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

advance  would  be  carried;  and  until  the  order  for 
the  charge  was  given,  something  that  stood  for  a 
rest  was  accorded  to  the  troops.  He  knew  that  the 
brigade  in  which  Eitel  von  Verlhof's  regiment  had 
been  chosen  as  assaulting  battalion  had  been  ambushed. 
There  was  talk  of  it  everywhere,  and  he  heard  that 
they  had  advanced  without  a  shot  being  fired  on  them, 
confident  that  they  had  surprised  the  position,  and  then 
the  maxims  had  opened  at  short  range.  "  A  fine  old 
bloody  mess  "  was  the  terse  description  of  the  action. 

Marcus  went  on  past  the  line  of  poplars  that  marked 
the  way  up  to  "  Hell  Corner,"  and  the  glittering  sun- 
set gates  opened  wide  and  let  out  their  last  glory  as 
he  trudged  on  like  a  man  in  a  dream.  Every  one 
he  passed  seemed  no  more  real  than  any  of  the  shad- 
ows, and  he  thought  of  nothing  but  Eitel  von  Verlhof. 
Marching  men  passed  up,  and  dispatch  riders,  staff 
officers,  heavy  transport  lorries,  carts,  and  Red  Cross 
motor-cars,  but  neither  the  sight  nor  the  sound  of 
them  reached  Janover. 

"  And  yet,  what  could  I  have  done?  "  he  asked  him- 
self over  and  over  again. 

He  wondered  where  Von  Verlhof  was  by  this. 
Was  he  alive  or  dead,  broken  and  defeated,  or  still 
triumphant?  He  wondered  if  it  was  possible  to  feel 
anything  but  numb,  and  he  looked  back  to  the  flats 
behind.  Perhaps  Eitel  was  lying  there.  The  leaves 
of  the  poplars  rustled  as  if  they  were  whispering  of 
things  they  knew,  and  a  force  darker  than  the  evening 
darkness  came  up  with  the  grey  clouds  that  gathered 
after  sunset.  There  was  an  affinity  between  earth 
and  sky,  and  to  the  eyes  of  Marcus  the  pale  after-light 
was  thick  with  ghosts.     Once  when  he  had  walked 

321 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

anywhere  visions  had  accompanied  him,  but  visions 
had  given  place  to  ghosts  and  his  eyes  were  full  of 
dull  steady  misery. 

If  Eitel  was  dead  —  well,  death  comes  to  all  of  us, 
and  it  was  the  best  friend  any  one  could  ever  hope 
to  meet.  But  he  himself  was  bound  to  the  law  that 
decrees  that  no  one  and  nothing  can  take  one  away 
from  oneself.  He  had  left  the  fluttering  of  the  poplar 
leaves  behind  him,  and  it  was  a  comfort,  for  their 
rustling  touched  him  horribly,  as  at  times  of  crisis 
some  little  thing  often  may.  Always  the  same  pic- 
ture haunted  him ;  the  darkness  of  the  night  and  the 
German  troops  advancing  to  the  assault,  a  dense  dark 
body  of  men  charging  behind  Eitel;  the  eerie  whistle 
of  the  waiting  observing  officer,  the  training  of  the 
guns  and  the  smothered  rattle  of  shifting  rifles,  and 
then  the  glare  of  a  searchlight  and  the  awful  slaughter 
at  no  uncertain  range.  A  shambles  lighted  up  like 
Piccadilly  Circus  —  he  could  think  no  more  of  it. 
Every  man  had  to  die  some  day,  but  death  showed  bet- 
ter sport  than  that  to  most  honest  soldiers. 

A  waft  of  wood  smoke  came  to  him  as  he  neared 
the  cinder  path  leading  up  to  the  Clearing  Hospital, 
and  with  it  brought  back,  as  nothing  but  scents  can, 
a  different  memory  that  for  one  second  drove  away 
the  hell-torment  of  his  thoughts.  For  in  Ireland  at 
evening  the  villages  are  covered  by  a  blue  haze  of  wood 
smoke ;  and  as  Marcus  Janover  stood  for  a  moment 
to  let  a  nurse  in  a  grey  dress  pass  him  at  the  door,  he 
realized  that  his  heart  held  more  than  one  raw  place. 
He  had  never  felt  before  what  he  was  feeling  at  that 
moment,  for  no  man  yet  has  ever  dared  to  comprehend 

322 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

all  his  joy  or  all  his  sorrow,  nor  do  individuals  see 
and  understand  the  exact  extent  of  their  loneliness. 
Marcus  pulled  himself  up  stiffly  and  walked  on  up  the 
path. 


323 


CHAPTER  XXX 

FATE  had  caught  Eitel  von  Verlhof  in  the  cruel 
way  that  men  cannot  understand,  and  he  lay 
amid  the  "  wastage  "  of  a  few  hours  of  war. 

There  were  sounds  of  pain  everywhere  around  him, 
the  mutinous,  harsh  sounds,  and  dull  low  moaning 
broken  by  the  persistent  cheerfulness  of  those  who 
were  only  slightly  wounded,  and  the  grim  stoicism  of 
others  who  hardly  permitted  themselves  to  groan  as 
the  doctors  worked  rapidly. 

It  was  a  clearing  station,  and  all  the  patients  would 
proceed  from  there  to  the  Base  Hospital,  but  Eitel 
knew  that  he  was  not  to  be  moved.  His  time  was  too 
strictly  limited  for  any  rule  to  be  adhered  to  in  his 
special  case,  and  the  young  doctor  who  attended  him 
said  that  he  was  to  die  in  peace.  "  He  will  be  gone 
before  the  next  batch  are  due,"  he  explained  to  the 
Sister  in  charge. 

The  tide  ebbed  slowly  and  painfully,  and  his  weary 
eyes  stared  patiently  out  at  the  vastness  ahead,  full 
of  wonder  and  knowledge.  Eitel  had  lost  none  of  his 
dignity  in  his  bitter  moment  of  defeat,  but  the  sad- 
ness of  his  face  was  poignant.  The  Sister  in  charge 
looked  at  him  regretfully  and  told  him  in  an  equable, 
matter-of-fact,  and  entirely  competent  voice  that  she 
was  leaving  him  to  the  care  of  another  Sister  who  was 
due  to  take  her  place. 

So  this  was  part  of  the  road  to  the  stars,  he  thought, 
324 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

and  he  tried  to  realize  that  he  would  soon  be  free  of 
his  numb  heavy  body  that  lay  already  nearly  dead^ 
yet  still  holding  him  prisoner.  He  would  not  be  low- 
ered into  any  hole  in  the  kindly  earth,  he  was  not  the 
bandaged  thing  that  had  been  carried  down  on  a 
stretcher.  His  real  essence  was  about  to  be  dissolved 
into  the  future,  leaving  only  his  memory  as  something 
that  belonged  to  the  past.  It  was  all  inconceivable 
and  he  turned  away  from  the  thought. 

Whatever  the  future  might  bring,  he  could  do  noth- 
ing towards  realizing  it  until  it  came,  and  he  returned 
again  to  the  memory  of  the  night  and  the  disaster  that 
had  befallen  his  regiment.  It  was  so  much  nearer  to 
him  than  the  graveyard  outside  or  the  other  thought 
of  eternity. 

He  beat  his  tired  brain,  wondering  how  it  had  hap- 
pened and  going  over  the  details,  struggling  to  think 
clearly. 

While  he  was  still  thinking,  the  new  Sister  in  charge 
came  in  and  hung  her  grey  coat  on  the  peg  at  the 
back  of  the  door. 

Eitel  looked  at  her,  and  as  he  looked  he  told  him- 
self that  he  must  be  in  a  dream. 

"  For  it  is  certainly  Hesper,"  he  said  aloud,  a  light 
touching  his  face.     "  And  Hesper  is  in  Ireland." 

She  turned  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  and  came 
quickly  towards  him. 

Their  eyes  met  with  the  look  that  recognizes  and 
accepts  the  eternal  parting,  and  comment  was  useless, 
but  all  their  common  memories  surged  upwards  and 
stormed  against  the  barriers  of  the  flesh.  Words 
were  meaningless,  and  to  comfort  one  another  was 
fully  as  hopeless  in  the  face  of  the  fatal  severing  force. 

325 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

The  sadness  blotted  out  even'thing  else  as  she  knelt 
beside  Eitel  and  hid  her  face  on  his  pillow. 

"  It  is  not  a  sideways  ending,"  he  said  cheerfully, 
but  his  voice  made  her  heart  ache. 

He  was  dying,  and  an  hour  or  two  ago  his  fine 
soul  radiant  with  hope  and  confidence  of  victory  had 
touched  the  high  moment  when  life  reaches  fulfilment. 
She  could  not  look  at  him  and  the  stained  bandages 
that  bound  him  now,  and  feel  that  he  belonged  to  the 
habitation  that  he  was  so  soon  to  leave.  It  was  easier 
far  to  think  of  him  already  as  a  spirit,  pacing  up  and 
down  the  lines  behind  the  inner  wire  entanglement 
and  watching  unseen  over  his  men. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  heard  him  say,  "  for  only  yes- 
terday I  talked  of  you  to  Marcus." 

"Is  he  with  the  German  troops?"  Hesper  shiv- 
ered and  leaned  a  little  closer  to  Eitel,  as  though  she 
felt  chill,  and  her  eyes  asked  why  these  things  were 
so. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  gathering  his  thoughts  ag:ain. 
"  He  has  been  with  us  all  the  time  —  our  side."  And 
then  as  though  instinctively  he  felt  the  shock  of  his 
words:  "  Mark  is  so  furiously  alive.  Hesper,  and  he 
followed  his  conviction  at  a  fearful  cost.  It  is  best 
to  be  like  me  and  the  rest  who  accept  the  conventions/' 

He  lay  back  and  closed  his  eyes,  for  he  was  strug- 
gling with  renewed  agony.  Her  face  was  so  dear, 
so  tender,  and  her  voice  was  like  music.  Ever  since 
he  had  first  seen  her  he  had  loved  her  faithfully  and 
well,  loved  her  as  few  men  have  loved  any  woman, 
and  yet  he  could  not  hope  to  find  her  in  any  of  the 
worlds.  He  felt  lonely,  and  the  candles  flickered  to- 
wards the  coming  darkness;  then  he  sank  into  a  merci- 

326 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

ful  moment  of  rest,  and  lost  all  sense  of  everything. 

After  a  time  he  returned  again  to  full  conscious- 
ness, and  Hesper's  mournful  eyes  met  his  as  she  raised 
him  on  his  pillow  and  made  him  drink. 

Something  had  happened  in  the  interval,  her  face 
was  so  wan  and  white,  and  the  mark  of  tears  was 
plainly  visible.  A  quiver  ran  through  her  and  she 
kneeled  at  his  side,  speaking  very  earnestly. 

"  Marcus  is  here.  He  wants  to  see  you."  She 
looked  distrustfully  at  the  door.     "  Remember " 

"  Mark?  Mein  Gott,  Hesper,  what  does  it  mean?  " 
Eitel  was  alive  and  a  soldier  again,  and  had  driven 
his  pain  from  him.  "  Have  the  British  taken  the 
Headquarters  Staff?  Where  is  Von  der  Schultz  and 
the  others?  " 

"  He  is  here  alone,"  she  said,  as  though  she  was 
telling  both  Eitel  and  herself  something  she  did  not 
wish  to  hear. 

"  You  and  I  and  he."  Eitel  gave  a  sigh  of  con- 
tentment. "  One  dreams  that  these  things  might  be, 
and  I  have  had  many  dreams  since  I  lay  here,  but  they 
vanish.  This  one  will  not  vanish?"  he  finished  anx- 
iously. 

Hesper  rose  to  her  feet  and  passed  out,  and  a 
moment  later  she  returned,  bringing  Marcus  back  with 
her.  His  face  was  set  and  determined,  and  his  bright 
hair  caught  the  light;  he  appeared  just  as  he  always 
did,  the  same  adaptable,  daring,  vital  Marcus,  and  the 
fateful  attraction  he  radiated  was  intensified  rather 
than  lessened  by  his  evident  anxiety  to  betray  no  sign 
of  what  he  felt. 

"  Mark,  this  is  colossal."  Eitel's  eyes  welcomed 
him,  and  a  smile  touched  his  face  pathetically.     **  I 

327 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

failed.  I  cannot  tell  how.  I  must  have  led  out  at 
the  wrong  place  —  but  the  rest  ?  Is  all  well  with  the 
Army?" 

Janover  stood  at  the  end  of  his  bed.  He  was  com- 
prehending the  real  meaning  of  his  relations  with  the 
man  he  loved  whole-heartedly.  His  eyes  filled  with 
defiant  misery,  and  he  knew  the  hour  had  come  when 
he  was  to  add  to  the  agony  of  this  living  crucifixion 
that  was  being  enacted  before  his  gaze.  His  hand 
was  to  take  the  spear  and  plunge  it  into  the  heart  of 
Eitel  von  Verlhof. 

"  You  did  not  lead  out  at  the  wrong  place,"  he  said. 
"  It  was  I  who  sold  you." 

Hesper  bent  forward  quickly  and  put  her  arm  round 
Von  Verlhof's  shoulder  as  though  to  protect  him  from 
a  blow,  but  though  he  was  silent  and  heavy  drops 
stood  out  on  his  forehead,  he  made  no  sign  of  flinch- 
ing. 

"  Why  did  you  do  it?  "  he  asked  simply. 

His  question  called  the  old  flare  into  Janover's 
eyes,  and  he  stood  very  erect. 

"  For  a  Nation's  destiny." 

There  was  a  silence ;  then  Eitel  spoke  in  a  low  whis- 
pering voice : 

"  Still  comrades  then,  Mark.  We  both  worship  the 
same  ideal." 

Marcus  spoke  violently  and  his  face  quivered. 

"  But  my  way  —  my  God,  Eitel,  it's  as  muddy  as 
the  streets  of  Nish."  He  laughed  bitterly.  "  I  gave 
a  woman  first,  and  then  my  best  friend,  but  my  own 
skunk  existence  is  whole  in  me.     I  have  a  sound  skin." 

Von  Verlhof  lay  back,  his  strength  was  failing  him 
fast,  and  the  darkness  closed  more  quickly. 

328 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

"  I  can  remember  you  —  years  back,  Mark  " —  he 
said,  speaking  with  difficulty  — "  the  old  school  class- 
room —  and  your  voice : 

That  their  dust  may  rebuild  her  a  Nation, 
That  their  souls  may  relight  her  a  Star." 

He  felt  the  touch  of  Hesper's  lips  on  his  forehead, 
and  he  spoke  to  her  pleadingly.  "  I  only  gave  my 
body,  Hest '" —  his  bandaged  hands  fumbled  on  the 
sheet  until  she  held  them  gently  — "  but  Mark  —  gave 
his  soul." 

He  looked  up  at  her  with  his  boyish  half -shy  smile 
of  perfect  understanding  and  perfect  peace,  and  al- 
most at  once  he  fell  asleep. 

"  He  is  dead." 

Hesper's  voice  reached  Marcus  out  of  the  swaying 
mists  that  surrounded  him.  All  the  real  things,  the 
still  body  on  the  bed,  the  ticking  of  his  own  wrist- 
watch,  and  the  very  presence  of  Hesper  were  remote. 

"  He  was  so  chivalrous,"  he  heard  her  say,  "  so 
brave." 


329 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

OUTSIDE  the  Hospital  the  sky  was  clear  and  full 
of  stars.  The  intermittent  booming  of  the  gims 
rullecJ  grandly  in  the  distance  like  a  far-off  storm,  hut 
the  world  that  actually  enclosed  Marcus  Janover  and 
Hesper  was  a  still  world,  peaceful  and  enchanted  un- 
der the  low  moonlight  that  filled  the  flats  with  soft 
bright  mist. 

"  You  know  now,  Hest,"  he  said,  speaking  sud- 
denly, "  and  I  don't  want  you  to  believe  that  I  felt  as 
I  do  all  the  time.  The  life  had  a  haunting  fascination 
—  I  found  that  in  it.'' 

She  made  a  gesture  he  could  not  interpret. 

"  Yes,  I  found  that  in  it,"  he  repeated.  "  Can 
you  understand  that  loving  you  as  I  did  I  had  to 
put  you  away  utterly?  I  had  to  hold  to  the  main 
I)urpose  of  my  work?  When  one  does  a  thing  it's 
no  use  wanting  to  get  back;  it's  as  useless  as  being 
in  revolt  against  God." 

Still  Hesper  said  nothing,  but  she  moved  out  of 
the  shadow  of  the  house,  and  the  moonlight  fell  on 
her  white  face  and  slender  figure. 

"  I  have  longed  for  you."  he  went  on.  as  though 
he  spoke  from  the  far  side  of  a  great  gulf.  "  There 
is  a  longing  that  gets  beyond  any  known  words  to 
express,  because  everything  bound  and  tied  my  soul 
to  yours,  and  I  never  got  anything.  Some  people  get 
part,  at  least,  of  all  they  start  out  to  win,  but  you 
see  I  was  one  of  those  who  just  goes  without." 

"  Marcus,"  his  name  broke  from  her,  and  she  held 

330 


The  Light  above  the  Cross  Roads 

out  her  hands.  **  I  never  changed,  I  never,  never 
changed." 

He  took  her  icy  hands  in  his  and  smiled  at  her  with 
his  old  mocking,  tender  smile. 

"  Life  is  an  ironic  business,"  he  said,  pressing  her 
hands  against  his  face,  and  even  then  she  could  feel 
the  desperate  vitality  in  him  touch  her  and  revive  her 
own  deathly  chill. 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  see  things  coming,  and  just  wait 
and  let  them  happen.  So  long  as  we  can  even  pre- 
tend we're  putting  up  a  fight  it  makes  it  better,  Schone 
Secle,  but  you  and  I  haven't  any  more  fighting  to  do, 
because  hope  is  dead." 

"  Can  it  not  live  again?  "  she  asked  desperately. 

"  The  world  has  shrunk  too  much."  He  put  his 
hands  under  her  chin  and  raised  her  face,  looking  into 
her  eyes. 

"  I  have  seen  you  —  nothing  —  nothing  matters  be- 
side that.     I  thought  I  was  to  go  without." 

She  swayed  a  little,  and  then  fresh  strength  came 
to  her,  and  she  spoke  to  him  low  and  earnestly.  AH 
the  time  he  only  looked  at  her  face  and  hardly  listened, 
he  lived  in  his  eyes. 

"  Hest  ...  if  I  come  through  .  .  ." 

He  crushed  her  to  him  as  though  he  crushed  sorrow 
and  mortality  into  nothingness  and  looked  into  her 
brave  steady  eyes. 

"  When  you  come  back,"  she  said,  and  they  stood 
folded  close  in  each  other's  arms. 

"  Schone  Secle."  Marcus  loosed  his  clasp  of  her 
and  then  he  walked  away  quickly  without  touching 
her  again. 

THE   END 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK    IS  DUE  ON   THE  LAST  DATE 
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